The Adventure of the Cry in the Maze
by mrs.forsyte
Summary: Holmes receives a telegramm from a foreign lady. It seems he and Watson will have to pack their bags.
1. Chapter 1

The Adventure of the Cry in the Maze

Hello again! This is my latest SH fanfic, and it will be a little longer than usual, with a more intricate plot I hope. It would be to the best advantage if you, dear readers, could make yourselves familiar with the rough chart I drew of the gardens at Schwetzingen Castle, southwestern Germany, as the bulk of the story will evolve at this location.

It is not very detailed or precise, and my drawing skills are intolerable, but I didn't dare to use an official plan for fear it might be illegal. You can access it by means of a link I installed on my home page.

Thank you! Kind regards, Mrs. Forsyte


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter one: 16.15 from Euston Station

During my intimate acquaintance with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, it stroke me that while he kept his personal affairs strictly to himself as another man would a shameful secret, he did not have the least scruples to invade my privacy or intrude upon my domestic peace. It was not an uncommon occurrence that he should stride into my professional consulting room or parlour unannounced, scaring the maids with imperative cries aimed at my person.

Still, as years passed by and we both advanced from the sprightliness of youth to the more sedate age of mature men, even my active, commanding friend became somewhat quieter and the visits I described less frequent. Thus it was a bit of a surprise for me when he was ushered into the withdrawing room on a fine day in September 1913.

"My dear Holmes!"

I choked on my tea and was seized by a coughing fit. Dabbing my mouth with the table napkin, I allowed him to explain the cause of his visit, which he rapidly did in his high, strident voice.

"My good doctor, it is a relief to see you well and unoccupied, for I shall need your assistance during the next hour or two."

"What is it?" I managed through the napkin. "A case?"

"A client", Holmes returned with subdued exhilaration. "She announced herself for two o'clock, and the telegram she sent indicates her being a foreigner, possibly from the Continent."

"Two o' clock?" I glanced at the grandfather clock. "That is fife minutes from now!"

"And yet I have good hopes for our punctuality, that is, if you don't detain us any longer with tea and obvious remarks", he retorted. "I have a cab waiting."

oooOOOooo

I did not need to be told twice, and we arrived at Baker Street in due time to see Mrs. Hudson conduct a tall, womanly lady into the house. A concern for the condition of Holmes' rooms flashed my mind, but I did not dare to ask him a question to this effect. Instead, we simply hurried upstairs where the landlady left us with our visitor in the reasonably presentable apartment.

Mr. Holmes grasped the proffered hand of the lady and slightly bowed over it.

"I hope you will excuse our delay, madam", he said courteously. "I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague Dr. Watson."

"How do you do." I took the hand of the stately woman, whose raven hair had been arranged into an intricate, wavy coiffure, and attempted to lead her towards a seat, but she shook her head, signifying that she preferred to remain where she was. Nervously she fiddled with her gloves, she glanced from myself to my celebrated friend.

Her face was vacuous but handsome, with warm dark eyes and a crimson mouth. She must have been beautiful in her first youth, but the years had left their traces on her countenance, and the beauty was in the process of waning. Her age I judged to be between late fourties and late fifties. When she spoke, her timbre was pleasantly deep and low.

"Mr. Holmes", she commenced, "I have come to consult you over an event zat has happened in my immediate environment, and zat is likely to affect ze happiness of my family. My name is Margarete Mahler, and I am remotely related wiz Friedrich, Markgraf of Baden in Germany."

Holmes listened to her attentively, smoking a cigarette as he did, and leaning on the mantelpiece. He betrayed no signs of peevedness, as he usually did when he sensed somebody desired to impress him with rank or connections. Frau Mahler, who in her uncertainty had dropped one of her gloves, proceeded:

"Ze Markgraf and his family are residing at Schwetzingen Castle during ze summer months, and I and my own family have been invited down to stay, amongst other guests.

My husband is Direktor Mahler, a commoner who has come to considerable honours in the army during ze Franco-Prussian war. He was born in the Alsace, but is german by nationality, and nowadays presides over ze local civil administration in Saverne. We – zat is, my my brother-in-law Johann and I – have been anticipating his coming to join us at Schwetzingen in a couple of days….but after what has happened, we rather apprehend his visit zan look forward to it."

Frau Mahler looked at my friend as if searching guidance, but when he remained silent, she went on:

"Ze incident I am referring to, gentlemen, was a theft. From my guest room in the castle, a very valuable old snuff-box of my husbands has been abstracted, as well as the greater part of his Krupp-AG shares, which represent a considerable part of our fortune. Ze theft in and on itself was perhaps not so very extraordinary, except for ze fact zat it was committed at a time when none of ze servants could possibly have been involved, zey having long retired to zeir rooms in another wing of ze castle zat very evening."

"So…possibly one of the other guests?" I suggested.

Our visitor nodded vigorously.

"At least, zat is what my cousin, ze Markgraf, zought. He prohibited everyone to leave ze castle until ze affair was cleared up."

"Except yourself, madam", Mr. Holmes interjected, scrutinizing her askance.

The lady frowned, as if the thought had not as yet presented itself to her.

"Zat is true. I suppose he let me depart because I am ze bereaved…and something had to be done about it. Ze theft occurred on Thursday last. I took ze first convenient train and ship to London and persuade you to accept the case. Today is Saturday, and I daresay if you are quick in making up your mind to come wiz me, we should be at Schwetzingen in less zan twenty-four hours."

Silence. I bent down in order to pick up the glove Frau Mahler had dropped in her excitement.

"What do you say, Mr. Holmes?" she finally asked anxiously.

"Frau Mahler." My colleague inhaled a cloud of tobacco and blew a ring which lingered in the air quizzically. "I can fairly comprehend the diversion of the shares leaves a considerable gap in your finance. I cannot, however, understand why you took the trouble of consulting me when you could have put your local forces to the test. Not that I myself place a great amount of faith in the ability of police officers, but a profane theft…"

"I need to have the stolen items back, Mr. Holmes. I did not wait for anybody to fail before getting the best man I could."

"Hum." He eyed her suspiciously. "Then why not asking me down by mail? It would have saved you time and the inconveniences of crossing the Channel."

"I know. I was afraid you might decline if I didn't make a personal appearance."

Holmes tossed the cigarette end into the fire place.

"What is it about the stolen goods that make them so valuable to you? Do you need the money so badly?"

"Not desperately."

"Still…?"

"M-my husband", she suddenly stammered, and her accent worsened by degrees when her tears began to flow. "I am afraid my husband might zink it was I who took the things away!"

"Why would he do that?" Sherlock Holmes enquired unmoved, while I finally succeeded in settling the drenched Frau Mahler on the sofa, offering one of my handkerchiefs.

"M-my marriage is problematic, Mr. Holmes", she hiccoughed, struggling for composure in vain, "and while my affection for my husband has remained unaltered since the day of our betrothal, I fear his feelings have cooled to a certain extent. He was _glad_ when ze army offered him zis post at Saverne – thus he was excused from spending a lot of time wiz me.

I have but one cause to worry in zis life, gentlemen: Zat ze little love he retained for me should die away. Now, if he learns about ze incident, he may take me for ze thief, but I could not stand it – my heart would break asunder."

Assuring her that everything would be perfectly alright, I patted her hand and tried to soothe her, yet the only thing she seemed to take an interest in was whether my friend would or would not consent to investigate the crime. For my own part, I was absolutely prepared to assist the unhappy lady, and the prospect of an adventurous journey was not disagreeable to me. Thus we both sat on the sofa, our eyes directed at Holmes, who appeared to be absorbed in thought. At last he raised his head and met the glance of our client with some sternness.

"Frau Mahler", he said again, "I presume you are as well aware of the political situation as and I. Certain tensions between our nations render the visit of an Englishman to the Germany inadvisable. In case there might be war…"

"War, what war! Zere'll be no war, Mr. Holmes!" Frau Mahler declared with persuasion.

I was rather astonished. Familiar as I was with the "political situation", I had not considered it in relation to our proposed voyage. Holmes was right, a stay in Germany might be perilous.

"Kindly leave that for me to judge, madam", the detective pronounced gently, but firmly. "I must ask you to cast your memory back to the instances during the preceding years, where the government of your country aggravated the government of mine.

Do I need to cite the Kruger-dispatch in 1895? Our late queen Victoria and Lord Rosebery weren't best pleased to hear of his Majesty Wilhelm II congratulate the Boer king on his victory over British troops. Or the construction of the Bhagdad-Railway through British and French territory, ten years ago? Not to mention a swiftly growing armada literally at the doorstep of Great Britain."

Frau Mahler shrugged her shoulders. "I can't answer to zat, Mr. Holmes. I am not a politician. In case zere be war, I would naturally use all my influence to grant you a safe transport to England. Zat is all security I can give. Will you accept?"

My boswell hesitated for a moment, and I was almost certain he would say no, when he suddenly turned to me.

"Watson?"

"Eh? Oh, of course…well, I assume there might be an element of danger in our pursuit, but that's the way it usually is, isn't it?"

"Steady old Watson. Your opinion reflects mine to perfection. My dear Frau Mahler, I think I may consider myself employed."

"Oh, zat is a relief!" The shy lady smiled so broadly the case might as well have been concluded already. "You take a burden from my mind. Concerning your salary…"

Mr. Holmes stopped her with an impatient gesture. "I f you please, we will discuss that at a later moment. Presuming that I understand you correctly, you would like us to be at Schwetzingen tomorrow, which means we would be well advised to look up the next convenient train."

"I already saw to zat, Mr. Holmes. Ze four fifteen from Euston will bring us to Dover, in time for ze boat we have to take if we want to catch ze night express from Calais."

"Ah, I perceive we are travelling according to a neat plan, which is just as well. Now, Watson, if you will return home and get a few things packed, we shall meet madam on the platform in say – " he consulted the clock on the mantle, " – three quarters of an hour. MRS. HUDSON!" he screamed, causing Mrs. Mahler to jump on her seat in shock.

"What's the matter, Mr. Holmes? I was doing the laundry!"

His landlady appeared in the door frame, a wee bit irritated.

"Mrs. Hudson! I absolutely refuse to have the laundry stand between me and the solution of a case! I _do_ hope you have some shirts and gaiters left for me, won't you?" he added, l little more amiable, cocking his head questioningly.

"Why, where are you going?"

"That, Mrs. Hudson, is top secret. Just get me my suitcase and a cab for Watson. Shoo, shoo! Begone!"

The old lady gave him a look as if uncertain whether he was serious or not, then she decided he was and hurried to carry out his orders.

oooOOOooo

we reached the Continent by ten p.m., as scheduled by our client, and mounted the night express aimed for Germany. As soon as we were seated in our gas-lit first class compartment, Holmes said:

"You mentioned yourself being a guest at Schwetzingen Castle among others. Would you mind telling us about them?"

"Not in the least", Mrs. Mahler replied. "Besides myself, there is, of course, my brother-in-law Johann. My husband's junior, he is – a nice young man. He's a sub-officer of the navy, and usually garrisoned at Wilhelmshaven, but got leave to stay with us for about a month."

"I presume you spend a lot of time with him?"

"Why, what do you mean?" Frau Mahler asked cautiously.

"I can gather it from the affectionate tone of your description. Plus, when you extracted the boat tickets from your porte-monnaie, I caught a glimpse of a young man's photograph you are carrying with you."

"Indeed, we are very close," Frau Mahler replied tersely. "Do you find a fault with that?"

"Not at all. I just found it suggestive."

"Suggestive?" the voluminous woman seemed to prance even more at his words. "In what way suggestive?"

"You haven't considerer him as a suspect, I take it?" Mr. Holmes asked equanimously, looking out of the window, where a foreign landscape rushed past us in the dark.

"As a suspect? Johann?" the woman I had previously considered as shy and self-conscious now seemed to boil with rage. "If you please would elaborate how you come to rank my most confidential relative among ze suspects?"

She had swelled to what seemed twice her size, and I quivered on my seat, anticipating her to burst every moment. Sherlock Holmes suppressed a yawn.

"Well, I thought the fact that he spends most of his time with you would afford him the best opportunity to…"

"Mr. Holmes! I must ask you to drop zis suspicion from the beginning. I asked you to clear myself of the guilt, not to transfer it to my brother-in-law!", Frau Mahler blustered. "I wouldn't want to exchange one trouble for another, would I? Please just do what you are supposed to do and confine your suspicions to the abundance of other possibilities. I would really appreciate if you did. Or better, just find ze items and return zem to my keeping. We do not wish for a scandal, as I'm sure you can understand. And please refrain from mentioning Johann again in zis context, as it is impossible he has something to do wiz ze…"

A gentle snore interrupted her raving. The head of my friend, which had been turned to the window, lolled to the other side and softly fell against my shoulder.

**Halloa! What do you say up to now? Liked it? Disliked it? Next chapter will see us plunge ourselves into **_**belle époche **_**society. Hope you are well up in your turn-of –the-century history! He who knows most will solve the case first****!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter two: Schwetzingen Castle

At two a.m. we arrived at Mannheim, where our train terminated. We spent the remainder of the night in a tavern close by, and in the morning returned to the station, from whence we proceeded to Schwetzingen. Frau Mahler proved to be somewhat exhausted, as a result of her uncomfortably spent past few days, and trotted over to the carriage that awaited us in the fashion of a sleepwalker.

I could not but notice the way her beautiful hair had become a little deranged, and regretted she had to been obliged to add the ordeal of travelling to her subsistent anxiety. I also noticed the dark tint was already slightly streaked with grey.

Annoyed as I had been with her conduct the previous night, I recovered the stance that she had to be pitied for her sorrows, not scolded for her narrow-mindedness. And what was more, her reaction to my companion's deliberations represented the norm. All too often I had witnessed cleverer people than her insist their friends and spouses be exempted from all suspicion.

She dozed off during our short ride down the high street of Schwetzingen, which in the light of the pale golden autumnal sun was a lovely sight to behold, dahlias and bleeding hearts adorning every window of the small arenite houses, children and cats were rollicking on the doorsteps, following us with curious glances as we rattled along on the uneven cobble stone pavement.

It was a peaceful, likeable little town, if perhaps a trifle bourgeois. When we crossed the market place on the farther end of the high street, the castle came into view. It had been built with the same arenite as the rest of the town, and was not actually an imposing aspect, being low and long stretched rather than towering high.

Plus, when the building was touched by the misty rays of early morning sun, its bright, creamy apricot hue became discernible, with a distinct tinge of pink. Next to me, Mr. Holmes closed his eyes indignantly, as if his aesthetical sense had been tortured with the sight of a particularly gruesome crime scene. He abhorred the colour pink.

When we came closer, I could see the main body of the castle had been undermined with an archway. Driving in and emerging on the other side, we found ourselves on the premises of the castle, the famous Schwetzingen gardens stretching in front of us. We beheld a wide space of white gravel, with trimmed trees and colourful, neatly arranged flowerbeds, the plants forming geometrical patterns in the style of _louis quatorze_.

The French garden composition was dominated by a circular fountain in its centre, as well as two massive statues of white harts, surrounded by equally white hunting dogs. Far away, close to the horizon I fancied, a vast artificial lake could be divined.

"Frau Mahler!" My companion roused the lady tenderly by placing his hand on her shoulder. "Wake up. We're there."

While our charge still rubbed her sleepy eyes, he got up and alighted from the four-wheeler, which had stopped with a crunch on the bright white gravel. Unsurprisingly, he had been the first to notice our party was about to be joined by a strange woman, who approached across a patch of lawn between the flower beds.

"Wilhelmina!" Mrs. Mahler allowed me to help her demount the carriage, whereupon she hurried with outstretched arms to meet the woman on the lawn.

Out of our hearing distance, they conversed very animatedly, finally locking their arms and strolling into our direction.

"Welcome at Schwetzingen Castle", the woman hailed us, offering her hand to us.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes – Gräfin Wilhelmina of Baden", Frau Mahler introduced. "Wilhelmina – Dr. John Watson."

"The pleasure is all ours, Your Highness", Holmes returned, bringing the ceremony to an end rather promptly. Running over his surroundings with an inquisitive glance, the strict beauty of the garden no doubt escaping his notice, he remarked: "I regret your husband's antipathy against Englishmen. Hopefully he won't mind my and my colleague's presence too much?"

The Gräfin stood dumbfounded at his words, clearly she was unable to figure what it was that had caused the detective to pronounce them. She was an elderly lady with a short tuff of straight grey hair, and her garments rivaled the strictness of her garden, consisting of a black tailored costume, with a stiff neck choker, wide skirts and a severely laced waist, in short, it was the fashion of a bygone age, and formed a strange contrast to Frau Mahler's more comfortable looking reform dress.

By the bye, she quickly regained her equilibrium.

"I assure both of you, there is no cause to worry. My husband is anxious to support Margarete in the first place, and suspicious of foreigners only in the second. I expect you won't see too much of him anyway, and above all, he does not speak English."

Shifting her head to the left, she fixed her cool blue eyes on my companion. "May I learn nonetheless, sir, how you come to know about his aversion? I'm sure Margarete didn't mention it – she was too eager to have you come here."

"The deduction was an easy one, Your Highness", Mr. Holmes explained indifferently. "You were smiling when you caught sight of your friend, but ceased to smile when you beheld us, and you talked to Frau Mahler vigorously in private, glancing in our direction now and then. Since we flatter ourselves to feature no other flaw than our origin – "the corners of his mouth tugged upwards ironically, " – I concluded it was our nationality which scandalized, the more so as I was prepared to meet with such attitudes in Germany. Your courteous manner, however, convinced me it was not yourself who entertained the a-fore mentioned prejudices, but probably your husband the Graf. This impression was enhanced by the fact that he has not accompanied you to our reception."

Markgräfin Wilhelmina could not conceal her astonishment.

"Simple", she muttered as if to herself, "quite simple after all."

"I'm sure. The art consists of nothing more than the exertion of said simplicity. But we must hasten our interview to an end, or else, I'm very much afraid, Frau Mahler will fall asleep eyes wide open."

Surprised once more, Her Highness turned to the left, only to find her worn out friend blinking in a desperate attempt to defeat her fatigue.

oooOOOooo

Thereupon we took his advice to heart. Her Highness signified the two valets who had conducted the carriage to attend to our luggage, and lead us to the right wing of the castle. On its ground floor, it harboured a flight of halls, parlours and similar representative rooms, whilst the guests were accommodated on the first floor.

Frau Mahler swiftly excused herself and retired to her apartment, clearly in need of some repose. Meantime, Gräfin Wilhelmina personally showed us to the rooms she desired us to share for the duration of our visit. They were spacious and commodious, and after our trunks had been brought up, I felt myself the desire to recline for a while. Holmes however, who would have expected otherwise, did not seem to feel drained in the least, he even directed further questions at our hostess.

"The Castle obviously is split up into several elements. Frau Mahler mentioned the servants having retired to another part of the building on the evening the theft occurred."

She nodded. "That is correct. The Castle has a main part with a wing on either side. The left wing is home to the staff and various domestic economy rooms. The main part is where my family – the Graf, our son Leopold and myself – reside."

"And were you all there on the night in question?"

I assume Frau Mahler would have considered his question an impertinence. Not so Gräfin Wilhelmina. She shook her colourless head earnestly.

"No, we were here, in the right wing. We were having a bridge party – usually we have a dance, but my husband complained of an ache in his foot and so we decided to amuse ourselves in a different fashion for once. We were assembled in the parlour downstairs- all of us, my family and me, along with our guests."

"How many of them?"

"Four – Margarete, her brother-in-law Johann Mahler, Freifrau Agnes von Wittgenstein and Luise, daughter of the Bavarian Herzog. Luise joined us only this very day."

"I see." Holmes smiled suavely. While not being particularly fond of the female species, he had a wonderful way with its representatives. "And how would you – a relative and, I understand, a close friend – judge the relationship between Frau Mahler and her husband's younger brother?"

"Oh, they are very nice with each other – on a remarkably good footing they are, to be sure", Her Highness replied innocently. "Why would you ask that?"

"I am just trying to calculate the situation, with all its details. I have heard Direktor Mahler is expected at the Castle shortly?"

A little shadow crept on the face of his partner in conversation. "He will be here tomorrow", the noblewoman asserted.

She seemed to be unwilling go deeper into the matter. Holmes let some more seconds pass, but his tactics were not very fruitful, Direktor Mahler obviously was no topic to discuss with our hostess.

"I will leave you to yourselves now", she finally said. "You must be tired and probably wish to rest a little. I will order some refreshment will be brought up for you later. If you are feeling more refreshed in the afternoon, my son and I would be happy to show you around, but if you prefer to explore the premises on your own, please feel free to do so. Sleep well!"

She advanced towards the door, but Holmes took a step after her. "One more question, if you please. On Thursday – the night of the theft – what happened prior to Frau Mahler's discovering it? Were you still playing bridge?"

"Yes, we were. Down in the parlour, as I said."

"And did you notice anyone leave the room? Did anyone act suspiciously?"

Her Highness shook her head. "That is impossible to say. You understand, we were much engaged by our game…especially the young people." She smiled faintly. "To be honest, there was quite a rumpus over it, and it went on for hours. I suppose everyone left the room at some time or other."

"So…everyone would have had an opportunity to come up here and…?"

Mr. Holmes' hand performed a demonstrative snatching movement. Gräfin Wilhelmina's hand, meanwhile, already lay on the handle of our door. She briefly turned her neck and cast a glance at him.

"Everyone."

With this single word she opened the door and vanished from our room.

oooOOOooo

Holmes was still standing on the same spot when I re-entered the chamber ten minutes later, in quest of my toothbrush. I succeeded in extracting it from the contents of my trunk, along with my pyjamas.

"Time to get some sleep, old chap", I yawned. He still stood there, stroking his lower lip with the index, thinking….contemplating.

"Alright, I'll go to bed", I sighed. Holmes suddenly returned to the living.

"A splendid idea, my good Watson. You go and recover your strength and spirit. I shall be gone for an hour or two."

And oblivious to my incredulous expression, he turned his back on me and left our apartment through the door our hostess had used ten minutes earlier. I shrugged my shoulders, moved to equal shares by wonder, irritation and admiration, and started to disrobe for what I hoped would be a relaxing, invigourating couple of hours.

oooOOOooo

By the time I woke up, it was high noon. Holmes had not yet returned, and his untouched bed told me he had been out and about all these past hours. Wondering about his whereabouts, I got up and prepared to go out on my own. The sky was clear, the air in front of our window smelled fresh and dewy like new mowed grass, who would wish to remain indoors?

I remembered the tour Gräfin Wilhelmina had proposed, but I had no idea where to find her. Without a definite intention, I descended downstairs, stepped out and took a lane to the right, which after a few minutes' walk brought me to the outer wall which enclosed the premises.

Pursuing the path along the wall, I traversed a small wooded area. It was damp and shady and smelled penetratingly of mushrooms. My feet rustled through a brown carpet of dead leaves, occasionally treading on a horse chestnut or the green, spiky pod of one. Then the wood cleared and I stood on the brink of a shiny little pond, behind which a rather strange construction amazed my eyes: it was like the fragment of a Roman aqueduct.

The building was composed of a kind of square tower, from whence the typical overhead water line branched off, supported by gigantic columns. The water line stopped dead somewhere in the shrubbery, nonetheless it evinced a strong impression of authenticity.

The whole thing was made of tuff stones, some larger tuff rocks lying about on the meadow by the pond. I could divine it was recharged by a small fountain integrated into the tower-like construction. The water overflowed its stone basin, gurgled over the uneven floor and dripped over the edge, right into the pond. Above the fountain, the tower had been decorated with a beautiful stone fresco, depicting some Roman Goddess or other. Below the fountain, by the border of the pool sat – someone.

I approached on the tips of my toes. Rain must have fallen during the hours I had slept, still the sun was now at its highest point, warming the air and drying the ground. Presumably the meadow was much less humid than the part of wood I which lay behind me, still the person, whoever it was, had taken the precaution to take a seat on one of the tuff rocks, among the fern that grew abundantly by the water.

I reckoned it was a girl, but could not be sure, so I endeavoured to circle the pool unnoticed. The stranger was sitting with her profile to me, and appeared to have something in her hand which engaged her concentration, thus it was easy for me to step closer without disturbing her. She was young, of pale complexion, but gifted with a certain healthy corpulence of body. Her attire would have been offending to some, as she was clad in a pale blue dress which allowed a brazen view on her naked ankles and the feet that were stuck in spiky buckle pumps.

For my part, I was not affronted, having noticed similar tendencies in modern fashion on the streets of London. The white collar that spread on her shoulders added a maritime hint to her appearance, and so did the large white hat on her strawberry blonde head. For an instant or two, I thought I had given myself away, for I could hear her talk, but she never did so much as turn her head into my direction. My curiosity piqued, I advanced a little more, until I could discern words from the high, clear flow of her voice. Puzzled as I was, I cast a glance around and over the area. There was nobody to be seen.

**Ouuff, this was difficult to do! I find it hard sometimes to pick the right word for what I'd like to express, especially when it comes to specific matters like botany or the intricacies of dress. Please let me know if something sounds wrong! I'd hate to describe say, a hairpin and then find out I referred to it with an expression meaning screw nut or something. You know what I mean? **

**Yeh, and up to now everything is normal – Holmes running around trying to solve the riddle, Watson spying on some young girl – but the mystery will start to develop at some point, I promise.**

**Cheers, Mrs. Forsyte**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter three: New Acquaintances

Stepping out of the thicket and listening keenly, I realized the girl was actually reciting something, according to the musical quality of her talk. As it were, she was reading out a poem from a book in her hand, with sufficient loudness and clarity of voice, for me to distinguish words, but still in German. Contrarily to Holmes, I spoke but a few bits and pieces of the language, all of which I had acquired at school years ago. Yet I remained silent and hearkened.

"_Und junge Himmel fielen herab,_

_Unersehnbare, wildsüße Düfte,_

_Wir rissen uns die Hüllen ab_

_Und schrieen!"_

I felt myself blanch when, despite my linguistic deficiency, I gathered from these lines the salacious tenor of the verses, and tried to beat a retreat, hereby stepping on a dry twig. The girl lifted her head in surprise, which wore off quickly when she beheld her clandestine audience.

"_Guten Tag!"_

She smiled and waved at me, obviously desirous that I should join her. I was astounded to see her neither frightened nor embarrassed at the sight of a stranger, and bemusedly followed her summons. She cocked her head to one side and watched me crossing the meadow, blinking up at me when I stood in front of her, for the sun had risen over my shoulder. Her face, framed by her soft hair with the peculiar _feuilles mortes _tint, was youthful and spirited. While not being much of a beauty, she clearly possessed a certain charm that enabled her to turn the heads of men at her leisure.

"_Wer sind Sie?"_ she asked calmly. She was not a bit scared by my appearance.

I stammered a few words and tried to explain my inability to converse in her mother tongue, when suddenly she laughed and slapped her hand to her forehead.

"Of course! Her Highness has me told. You are one of the English gentlemen who come should. I have it forgotten." She rose and extended her hand to me. "Luise, Duchess of Bavaria. But you can say only Luise."

"It is a pleasure, Fräulein Luise. My name is Watson, Dr. John Watson." Smilingly, I took her proffered hand and carefully pecked it.

Everything about her, her forwardness and her droll broken English, endeared the girl to me, I liked her better every second I spent in her company. When I introduced myself, I discovered a hidden spark of excitement in her eye, and after I had taken a seat on one of the tuff rocks at her invitation, she burst forth:

"I remember now. You are the friend of the famous detective. Sherlock Holmes. Is he here?"

Chuckling to myself at the way she pronounced my companion's Christian name – she might have been talking about Sherwood Forrest – I inclined my head.

"He is indeed. At this moment, he is engaged in an attempt to unravel the mystery. The unfortunate incident, I mean", I explained, for Fräulein Luises eyes went wide like a set of saucers in default of comprehension. "The robbery at Frau Mahler's quarters. You wouldn't have heard or seen anything out of the ordinary, I presume?"

She shook her head avidly. "No. I have it not done."

"I believe you." I ran her over in an attempt to disclose things about her in the fashion of my skilled comrade. Needless to say, I failed abysmally.

Apart from her saucy dress, she seemed a perfectly kind, appealing young woman. The infantine softness of her features recalled to me Delaroche's "The execution of Lady Jane Gray", a portrait of the tragic young aristocrat whose nine day's regency resulted in her execution at the Tower of London. On the girl seated opposite to me, however, not a trace of the tragic was to be found.

I pointed at the small volume of poetry now lying next to her on the rock. "You were reading when I interrupted you."

"Yes." She grasped it and I flightily read: "_Else Lasker-Schüler: Gedichte" _on the back of the book.

"Like you poems?"

"Pardon? Oh – " I do not exactly cherish reading poetry, I prefer prose.

Anyway, my answer was not essential to Fräulein Luise. She turned back to the page she had abandoned on my behalf, and continued precisely where she had left it.

"_Berauscht vom Most der Lüfte_

_Ich knüpfte mich an sein Leben an_

_Bis dass es ganz in ihm zerrann,_

_und immer wieder Gestalt nahm_

_und immer wieder zerrann._

_Und unsere Liebe jauchzte Gesang,_

_zwei wilde Symphonien!"_

„My dear young lady!" I exclaimed with indignation.

"What is the matter?" she asked innocently, and put the volume aside once more. "You like it not?"

"It certainly is very inappropriate reading, especially for an unmarried woman like you. Are you not ashamed of yourself to indulge in such smut?" I chided her.

She burst into a small fit of laughter. "You are very sweet, doctor! But think you not it is a little old-fashioned to be angry because I read this?"

"I do not claim to be awfully modern", I grumbled, "Still I retain my opinion that this botch is mere filth. Your parents shouldn't allow…"

"They are not here now!" the girl crowed, smiling triumphantly.

I gave up the fight. "Very well. You are your own master, then. However, may I learn from you the whereabouts of Gräfin Wilhelmina and her party? I was supposed to meet them in the afternoon."

"Hum…" she knitted her brow, then a radiant smile showed me all of her white, even teeth. "Ah, of course. She wanted to go over to the Japanese garden – there, there!" Vigorously pointing into the direction I had come, she elaborated: "Leopold and she go around the other side of the park. Try it there!"

"I will. Thank you, Fräulein Luise. It's been a privilege to meet you." I rose and bowed. She accepted my gallantry calmly, as her well-deserved due.

"I see you at the ball this evening."

"I'm looking forward to it. Maybe you would consider saving a dance for me?"

"Yes!" She looked up at me hopefully. "Can you dance the cake-walk?"

"Excuse me?" I spluttered, even more confounded than I cared to show.

She shrugged her shoulders in disappointment. "I thought you dance it in London. Then not!"

"Well…until tonight, nonetheless." And bowing once more, I left the curious maiden, who in all likelihood was inwardly assigning a more conventional dance to me.

oooOOOooo

Whilst straying back to the castle, I mused about how different Fräulein Luise was from the young English ladies of my acquaintance, who were far more distinguished by modesty and the strict compliance with decorum. Still – who knew? It might as well be they only exercised reticency in the presence of Dr. Watson, the dear old uncle…

I sighed, the autumnal melancholy affecting my mood. When had I become so ancient? I fell into a brown study, pondering the death of my beloved wife Mary and the feigned death of my friend at the Reichenbach Falls, years back. Both events had, I believe, greatly contributed to my aging process, both on the inside and on the outside.

And now, with a new era dawning, an era comprising strange dances, short frocks, motorcars and I know not what, I distinctly felt myself growing into an archaic relic, a thing that was deposited in the attic, and retrieved only from time to time, just to be laughed and marveled at.

My sinister musings were eventually interrupted by the bird-like call of "Watson!" which caused me to decelerate my pace and look around. My eyes found Holmes sitting on the brim of the circular fountain, in the centre of the _Louis quatorze _gardens. He had been smoking a cigarette, which he tossed away on my appearance, lazily waving his hand to excite my attention.

His long legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles in his customary way, as if he had been sitting in front of the fire at Baker Street, he appeared to feel quite at home. Next to him, Gräfin Wilhelmina seemed like a dark omen, standing erectly on her feet in her severe black accoutrement, her basically benevolent countenance a little dour.

I hastened to meet them by the flat basin, gallantly bowing to our hostess. " I beg your pardon, your Highness. I failed to find you and digressed from my path, I'm afraid…"

"No need to apologize, my dear sir", she assured me. "Mr. Holmes and I met just a moment prior to your arrival. My son asks your forgiveness for remaining absent, I understand he has a slight indisposition. Shall we?"

"By all means, Your Highness."

I kept to her side while Holmes, who had taken another cigarette from his apparently inexhaustible case, stayed a little apart from us. His walking stick produced crunching sounds on the gravel ground, a delicate whiff of tobacco now and then confirming us of his continual presence.

Leaving the almost pedantic layout of the baroque park behind, we dived into the shade of some patriarchic oaks, which surrounded a small, square granite building, whose Grecian porch was supported by Doric columns. The open interior of the sanctuary displayed the white marble statue of a female warrior, appareled with helmet and shield.

"The temple of Minerva", Gräfin Wilhelmina illustrated. "Our ancestor, the Kurfürst Karl Friedrich, has been a fervent admirer of ancient cultures, both from the Orient and the Occident. On his order, the park was filled with shrines like this one, _in memoriam_ of a creed that was lost to the ages."

I knew her discourse was not exactly enjoyable to Holmes, who preferred to keep his mind free of all facts unrelated to his business, yet he was obliged to listen. It was not his habit to show disrespect if he could help it. In order to hide my smile, I left him with the Gräfin and approached the temple with the intention of stepping inside, when for the second time in a day, I surprised a woman absorbed in a book.

"Huh!" The lady issued a peculiar, startled little sound and in the impulse of a first instinct raised her book to shield the face with.

She was elderly, older than Frau Mahler, and older still than the Gräfin, a small wiry woman with crinkled hands and tiny, withered features that were revealed when her book sank to her lap again.

"I beg your pardon." Taking off my hat to her, I attempted an apology, but she proved to be quicker.

"Oh, it is quite alright, sir. I just thought you were a mass murderer." A faint sense of disappointment rang in her voice.

"A….?" I fell silent when catching sight of the cover of her book, it had been styled in black and a shade of red which hurt the eyes, and in essence seemed to portray a vile, demonic face and a slaughter's knife dripping with blood.

"Oh my, it's Agnes!" The Gräfin and Sherlock Holmes had ascended the few steps leading up to the temple behind me. Swiftly passing me and taking her book from the small old lady, the Gräfin mildly rebuked her: "Have you been reading those penny dreadfuls again, dear? Why don't you choose something _nice_ to read, for a change?"

The bereaved gave up the book without an offer of protest. Curiously, not to say eagerly, she stared at us. Wilhelmina sighed the sigh of a long sufferer.

"This is Sherlock Holmes, dear, the gentleman I told you would come to assist poor Margarete with her misfortune. And this is his colleague Dr. Watson. Gentlemen, please let me introduce Agnes, Freifrau of Wittgenstein."

"Oh, indeed?" Agnes got up and shook both our hands, with a vigour I should hardly have given her credit for. "I am very glad to meet you, gentlemen, all the more so as I have heard of you and your endeavours ever so often. You will be excited to hear I have already formed a theory regarding the abstraction of poor Margarete's things."

"Irrepressibly", my friend Mr. Holmes returned sarcastically. Albeit having been considered one more than once during his career, he detested meddlers.

Gräfin Wilhelmina gave the impression of being somewhat abashed. "Well…perhaps another time, dear?" she said tentatively. "I wanted to show the gardens to our guests…"

If she had truly hoped to get away with this, she had mistaken her woman. Ere we knew what was happening to us, we were on our way, Agnes clinging to us like a limpet with the peculiar obnoxiousness of old age.

"I already examined the crime scene to save you the trouble, Mr. Holmes, and I can furnish you with several valuable clues. For instance, I found a button under the drawer Margarete used to keep her Krupp-papers in. I also found traces of hand balm on the night stand she had locked the missing snuff box in. Looked at everything with my most powerful lens, I did. Naturally, everything indicates the villain to be a woman. Not to mention, I perceived the scent of rose perfume in both places."

She gabbled incessantly, and I believe both the Gräfin and I noticed the way Mr. Holmes' jaws tightened, and his face assumed an extraordinarily sour expression. I think all three of us thought about the same: Namely that if Agnes was given free reign, she would most likely end up having Frau Mahler arrested, on the evidence of the traces she had left in her own apartment.

"We have had the police at the Castle over this matter", the noblewoman blathered on, "but I told them there was no need to exert themselves, since I'd be on the alert until your arrival. Now you've come, I believe our case will be concluded in no time!"

"Our case!" Mr. Holmes snapped. "I'm gaining the conviction that with the zeal of the local forces combined with your doubtless cunning, you will hardly require my humble services."

"Oh, I am not too sure about that", Agnes proceeded imperturbably. "You _are_ a very renowned detective, after all…surely, there are things for me to learn from you…"

My companion did not evoke the impression of being too keen to impart any of his knowledge, but he was unable of further utterances. I presumed he would just go on swelling internally till the explosion. And yet, though the situation was infinitely comical to me, I had a little pity for Agnes, who seemed to genuinely believe she was the kindred spirit the great detective had longed to find.

Her Highness the Gräfin tried to enliven our respective moods by continuing her explications. We had reached a long avenue framed by huge sycamore trees, a high brick wall running parallel to it on our left. Craning my neck, I caught a glimpse of several dull rows of trees that looked rather dead.

"The Japanese garden", the Gräfin explained. "Though it is nothing much of a garden, naturally, just a nursery of almond trees. Still, it is a pity you won't be here to see them in spring, when they are in bloom. They're a lovely sight to see, then…a sea of delicate, pink blossoms….it's very beautiful…"

I turned around to face Holmes, who looked decidedly ill. I fancy he had had his share of pink already, this day.

**Ok, easy. I trust Mr. Holmes is much too well-bred to be sick in front of the party…one never knows, though. And whooo! I guess he will have a miserable time with his "kindred spirit"…and I a great one *snicker*.**

**Next chapter, we will meet the male inhabitants of the castle. Hopefully, my overarching adoration for my countrymen is not seeping through too much already. *coughs* Err, well.**

**So long, then! Kind regards, **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter fife: Bug and bother

Behind the almond garden, there was an imposing mosque, striking and wholly unexpected by the passer-by, who might consider himself entering a tale from _Thousand and One Night, _and this was where our steps led us. Dutifully listening to the Gräfin, who dwelled on this specimen of oriental architecture, we roamed its extensive ambulatories. I craned my neck to admire the blue and golden stucco ceiling which had been decorated with luminaries to represent the sky, and read the Arabian words of wisdom that had been engraved into the wall.

From the arcades which enclosed a square of open space, the high, slim minaret could be seen, and at the thought of standing up there on the cramped platform, my stomach turned. Luckily, Gräfin Wilhelmina did not suggest climbing it, in fact, she had fallen silent and left the lead to us, the word to our talkative companion.

"What do you think of the Ripper murders, Mr. Holmes? Do give me a hint. You must have been in London at the time they took place, how is it that you never commented on the case?"

I saw Holmes close his eyes briefly, praying for patience.

"I take no great interest in murder, madam. The more vulgar crimes rarely present an opportunity of applying one's mental powers. What I prefer is the challenge of the puzzle which offers a wide field for analysis and - "

"Hush, Mr. Holmes! Can there be a greater challenge than tracing the murderer all the King's horses and all the King's men have been hunting in vain? Imagine the turmoil that would have come to pass if the culprit had been found to be of high rank and breeding! Wouldn't it have been simply delicious?"

Sherlock Holmes crossly furrowed his brows at the interruption. Usually it was he who cut other people short rather than vice versa, and I presumed he had his difficulties in adapting to the current situation. The Gräfin, who had fallen behind a little, now closed the gap on me and apologetically whispered:

"I _do_ hope you won't be pestered by Agnes too much. She doesn't mean it, dear old thing. Still I am always concerned her obsession with crime and murder might be offensive to some, especially tonight, since I have invited an extensive party from the neighbouring estates."

Stifling a chuckle and trying to look sympathetic, I enquired: "Why did you invite her to stay in the first place, Your Highness, when you do not really wish to put up with her?"

She sighed. "I didn't – it was my husband who demanded it."

"So, he is friends with the old lady?"

"By no means. The Graf is a determined militarist, however, and I think he has great ambitions for the future of our son, Leopold. The dear boy is but nineteen, yet already he excels at military school and will hopefully join the army as a sub-officer by the end of summer. I believe this is why my husband is constantly inviting Agnes, because of her connections. You see – " She lowered her voice to a whisper barely audible – "Agnes is a first cousin to Wilhelm II – the emperor."

"Indeed?" I had expected to meet with exalted persons, but this came as something of a surprise. "Well, I can comprehend you wish to keep in touch with her at least. It might be decisive for your son's career."

The Gräfin nodded ruminatively. "My thoughts exactly, doctor. He must oblige many people and bear himself irreproachably if he wishes to succeed."

During our conversation, Holmes had taken to lengthening his steps more and more, Agnes hustling behind him, trying to keep his pace, which cut short her breath, so that she was obliged to cease babbling. I daresay it was a sight for the gods; Holmes seemed determined on outrunning the tiny old woman, who in her struggle for breath issued curious little whistling gasps like a steam engine. They had come as far as the exit when we caught up with them.

Stepping outside, we overpeered a pool of deep brown water. On the opposite bank, the land slightly rose and a somewhat sinister temple was to be seen on top of the small hill. It was semi-derelict and a wooden scaffold had been constructed around it.

"The mercury temple", Gräfin Wilhelmina observed. "Shall we proceed to the other side? We can't go in though, it's too risky. Nobody has been in there for years…"

She resumed her place at the detective's side as we walked on, but her provision was not nearly enough to save him from Agnes.

"Don't you think it extraordinary, Mr. Holmes, that anyone of our party should have committed the crime with the object of gaining money? You'd think they were all well off. I wonder who might have had a motive."

"Perhaps someone simply planned to incriminate Frau Mahler?" I suggested tentatively. "She was very concerned her husband might suspect her of the deed."

The two women in our company exchanged a quick glance.

"Unfathomable", Her Highness exclaimed with conviction. "I could never see anyone do such a horrid thing to Margarete. She is the sweetest soul on earth…doesn't have an enemy in the world…"

"That is to say", Agnes interposed, but the Gräfin cut her short with a determined gesture. "None of that. It is unthinkable someone should want to play such an evil trick on her."

"Well", Agnes sighed in defeat, "You see how dearly we require your help, gentlemen, we do not have a single clue. Perhaps we should schedule a cross-examination, you and I, what do you think, Mr. Holmes? You can always get a little more out of people if you question them thoroughly. Oh, I have read of delightful methods – take people by surprise – pretend to know more than you do – and they'll spill everything."

By now, we had circled the mere and reached a hayfield next to the hill, which was rather steep on that side. It appeared the temple had been made from the same tuff stones as the roman aqueduct, for large rocks of the soft mineral were lying about here as well. Into the steep, rocky side of the hill, a barred door had been inserted.

"Where does that lead to?" I wondered.

"The basement to the temple", the Gräfin explained, "but the door has been opened by none during my lifetime. I do not think there is even a key. Shall we rest for a while?" She lowered herself onto a piece of rock, and I was about to follow her example, when suddenly I noticed Holmes had disappeared.

"Pray excuse me for a second…"

I left the ladies to themselves and set out to climb the hill. Sun had been shining all day, and it was rather warm and absolutely still. Bees were humming between the large tuff stones and the bushes that grew thicker as I came closer to the temple. I paused and turned around, looking back over the lake to the mosque. The place exerted a strange kind of fascination on me, it was mysterious, alluring and slightly menacing.

It struck me that there were plenty of trees growing that allegedly held magical properties, such as the oak, the blackthorn and the hazel, and the decrepit heathen sanctuary appeared to gaze at me through the bushes as if my presence was not welcome. The fane consisted of a single round room, which was to be seen obscurely and imperfectly behind the arched windows, and there must also have been a staircase inside, for there was another floor in the dome.

I approached further. It seemed strange to me that the building should have been off limits for decades without any effort to remedy its condition. There was the wooden scaffold of course, but no worker, or any man for that matter, showed. Making my way through the troublesome undergrowth, I beheld the stone frescos above the window arches. They exhibited scenes from the Greco-Roman mythology, and I was able to guess the identity of some of the gods and heroes by their attributes, when all of a sudden, I felt someone behind me grasp my shoulder.

I gasped and spun round, fully prepared to face some jealous deity, intent on purging the place of intruders. You may imagine, dear readers, that I was comparatively relieved it was only Holmes, although his countenance was apt to frighten a random observer.

"Did you get rid of her, doctor?"

"What are you talking about? How can you absent yourself from the party without making an excuse? You will go back with me instantly!"

"I won't." He folded his arms in front of his chest and stood as firmly as if planted into the soil, the very picture of unyielding determination.

"Holmes, your behaviour is discourteous in the extreme! What will her Highness the Gräfin think?"

"I don't care. I'm not going back."

I sighed. "You mustn't judge the old lady too hard. She has nobody of her age, nobody to share her interests with. Don't you think she deserved sympathy? All the more so as she is invited only because of her kinship with the royal family."

"My dear Watson, you can hardly ask me to even commiserate the insufferable woman. I _can_ stand a prattling female, but too much is too much!" he wailed.

I shook my head. "Your conduct is childish at the best. Yes, she talks a great deal, so what? Let her play detective if she so pleases, for goodness' sake! After all, who knows? Something might come from her inquiries!"

Mr. Holmes growled. "I wonder whether you'll still say the same when she has finally decided to settle the fault on you somehow."

"Now, don't be ridiculous…"

"This woman's the devil incarnate, Watson! Will you believe it? On our walk here, she managed to cover Peace, Cream, Dyer and the Ripper, plus she appears to have devoured your records of our cases and deems herself my _scholar_! And tomorrow, I'll instigate a cross-examination with her!" he groaned.

"Calm yourself, dear friend. Surely, things are not as bad as that…"

"Your word in God's earshot, Watson!" He took a handkerchief from his coat to dab his brow with, and I caught a glimpse of the garments he wore underneath, a rough shirt and a frivolous red neck muffler. I couldn't detect more, for he swiftly closed the buttons over it, but those were not the clothes of a gentleman, that was for sure.

"Holmes, what on earth is that you're wearing? Do you plan on attending a fancy dress party, disguised as a groom?"

"Of course not!" he hissed with annoyance, but the pretense was shallow and I could tell he was slightly embarrassed.

"Then would you have the kindness to explain…"

"Hush!" He put the finger to his lips and jerked his head in my direction. Turning around, I caught sight of a young man on a horse.

On this side of the hill, the slope was grassy and less steep, so the equestrian was able to ride up to us without hindrance.

"_Was tun Sie da?" _he called. _„Es ist verboten, den Tempel zu betreten!"_

Holmes quickly gave a reply in German which I did not manage to understand, but the stranger reigned in his horse, still subjecting us to a close scrutiny.

"I have been informed of your arrival, gentlemen, and I'm very grateful dat you will endeavor to help Margarete Mahler. All the same, I must insist you leave dis place at once. It is dangerous to stand too close by the edifice. Stones might fall from the roof and you would get yourselves hurt."

Somehow he did not really evoke the impression of being concerned about our safety. To say he was a young man was perhaps too much, he seemed hardly more than a lad, twenty at the most. His clear cut face and the charcoal hair and eyebrows bestowed a peculiar kind of beauty on him, still androgynous with youth. Anyhow, the contemptuous glance from his dark eyes would have convinced the most naïve vis-à-vis of his coldness and arrogance.

"Leopold! My dear boy!"

I revolved to see the Gräfin come over the hill, Agnes on her wake. My friend tensed and glared at the older woman, but remained where he was, not uttering a word.

"Mother!" The youngster eventually demounted his high horse. "I have been looking for you. Father desires an interview with both of us. And your guests –" he motioned towards us depreciatively, " – would perhaps like to prepare for the ball tonight."

"Naturally…"

Her Highness looked slightly upset, until she remembered the necessities of decorum.

"Oh, do forgive me! This is my son, gentlemen. Leopold, this is Sherlock Holmes and this Dr. Watson."

"A pleasure", the laid remarked, bowing to us stiffly. Holmes' eyes sparkled.

"Likewise. I can gather from the state of your left wrist that the family council will be a lengthy one, so perhaps Dr. Watson and I had better withdraw. We will postpone the exploration of the gardens to another day, I reckon."

"Dis is a good idea", the young man returned, briefly and confusedly leering down at his left hand. "We will again meet in de evening, gentlemen."

"Certainly", I said with a smile, hiding my growing impatience at the local incapability of pronouncing a proper _th_. "Good bye, sir – Ladies."

I bowed and Holmes quickly did the same. Turning our back on the small party and departing down the hill, he upheld his solemn bearing until we were out of hearing distance, then he sighed in heartfelt relief. He had escaped.

**Howdie!**

**Hum, this did not quite work out as planned, but it never does. **

**Hopefully you all know the meaning of "verboten" – yeah it's a very important word here in Germany. I think we agree that Leopold fellow is a stupid ass, anyway. How dare he turn the tables on Holmes and treat him with disdain? Honestly, arrogance is an essentially holmesian privilege!**

**And yes, I know Leopold is a wretched name, like real uncool. Originally, his name was Carl, but that was before I discovered **_**Llamas with hats**_** on youtube. Now, every mention of CAAAAARL! will send me into a giggling fit. **

**Oh, I almost forgot: I uploaded some pics of the gardens on my livejournal gallery, you might like to head over and view them, just to get a better idea of the location. Cool? Splendid! **

**Regards and see you next chapter, Mrs Forsyte**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six: If you wanna hang out, you've gotta take her out – Cocaine

"Thank Goodness!" Sherlock Holmes appeared to cheer up with every bouncing step that we strode away from Agnes. He started whistling and swirling his cane, regaining his good spirits.

"Really Holmes, now you're exaggerating! I'm sure the old lady is not a bad sort. This unpleasant young man was, in my opinion, much more deserving of our distaste…"

"Balderdash, Watson. We've been allowed the absence from all society for a couple of hours, and don't you try and spoil it for me."

"As you will." I contemplated our reflections in the dull water of the mere by the border of which we were marching. "Holmes", I suddenly asked, "what have you been doing with yourself all the time that I slept in the morning? Where have you been?"

"Hmmm?"

I was aware he had understood me very well, but feigned deafness either to pique my interest or for some other purpose.

"My dear friend! You heard me. What have you been doing with your time?"

He threw me a curious sideways glance. "Do you really think it would make you happy to hear how I carefully ransacked the respective rooms of our hosts?"

"No, you didn't!" I stopped dead and stared at him indignantly. The corners of his mouth twitched. As per usual, he did not acknowledge how much he was in the wrong.

"This is intolerable! What if someone had caught you? How awfully mortifying for both of us! Imagine the awkward situation you would have got us into!"

He laughed heartily. "No need for your concern, I assure you, Watson. I took the precaution of going in the shape of a valet."

"A valet?" I squinted one eye. "So, that is the reason for your less than ceremonious habit!"

"You mean this?" He fiddled with the abominable red muffler. "Indeed, it was quite superfluous. Nobody set as much as an eye on me."

"Thank God", I moaned, my forehead clammy with perspiration. "Surely, this was not one of your more ingenious ideas, Holmes! It could have gone terribly wrong. What did you manage to find in the rooms, anyhow?"

"Many an interesting item."

"Such as?"

"That I won't tell at present. You know me, Watson. I like to keep a little mystery to myself."

"But you didn't recover the missing items, did you?"

"Hardly that."

"I thought as much", I huffed with disapproval. "The greatest fool would not steal those things and keep them in his room when one of the most famous investigators is about. They could be anywhere on the premises…"

"Exactly. However, I wish to abide a more convenient moment to take action."

"And what will said action consist of?"

"That I won't tell either. I have not yet determined on my proceeding. At any rate, it will be necessary for me to re-visit the rooms I searched today."

I did not enthuse at this prospect, but found it was safer to keep my mouth shut, for Holmes could become quite nasty when he felt I was interfering too much in his investigations.

oooOOOooo

thus we returned to our rooms at the Castle in order to take a bath and change for the evening. Having finished my own dressing, I stepped into Holmes' chamber and amused myself at the expense of my poor friend's incredible vanity. He had started grooming ever before I had, and even now, he was not nearly done.

Strutting in front of the lengthy mirror, he examined his appearance, smoothing his pomaded hair and re-adjusting his cravat with the emerald tie pin a certain royal personage had presented him with years ago. I did not actually succeed in suppressing the laughing fir which bubbled up in my throat, and Holmes revolved, only to turn back to the looking glass and run over his reflection worriedly, in quest of anything which might have provoked my merriment.

Satisfying myself that there was nothing, he faced me with slight irritation.

"Will you please share the cause of your amusement with me, my dear doctor?" he enquired with an air of being hurt.

"Nothing in particular, old man", I assuaged him. "I just wondered what Mrs. Hudson would say if she saw us like this. I take it we're looking rather foolish."

Mr. Holmes sniffed. "You speak for yourself only, doctor", he uttered and returned to the dumb rendez-vous with his inanimate double.

I let my eyes roam the chamber that had already assumed the characteristic untidiness, and mustered the array of my companion's collars and cuff links, all neatly spread on the coffee table. Shaking my head in disbelief, I removed myself from the room where my company, I sensed it, was temporarily not required.

oooOOOooo

There was an hour's gap to the official beginning of the ball souper, and I entertained myself by refreshing what little German I had. I am not ashamed to admit I also browsed all German love poetry at my disposal, hoping, not unduly I believe, to meet again with the charming young lady whose acquaintance I had made earlier that day.

I was sitting in the window, from whence part of the driveway could be observed, and from time to time an equipage rattled by, and even one or two of those dreadful, noisy, smelly, new-fangled contraptions which are called motor cars.

I inspected the clock at my bedside and decided it might be time to step down the stairs. Hopefully, my boswell had managed to perfect his looks by now.

I knocked on his door, but was not graced with an answer.

"Holmes?" Pushing open the door and peeping in, the first glance suggested to me that the detective had left without giving me notice.

Then, however, I beheld his silver cigarette case next to the vanity mirror, and knowing that Holmes would never be able to bear an evening of social reunion without it, I fully entered his bedroom and glanced about. He was not to be detected.

The window was closed and the bed empty, as were the couch and the seats by his coffee table. Knitting my brow, I wondered whether he had returned to the bathroom and recommenced the entire procedure, when a limp and listless arm fell from the upper end of the couch. It was _not _empty! He had lain down on it! And there, on the coffee table –

"No", I groaned. He had done it again. I stepped around the couch. "Holmes", I said tentatively, but strictly. "Holmes!"

He was lying with open eyes, his smoothened hair all messed up again, and his long, bony fingers twitched as if out of control.

"Wait a minute", I murmured, dashing to my room and retrieving a sedative which I dissolved in a glass of water. Returning to my prostrate friend, I kneeled down by his side and held the glass under his nose. "Drink…"

He brought it to his lips shakily, while I helped him a little to get into a sitting position. Taking the empty glass and placing it on the table, I noticed the angry red bodkin on the wrist of his trembling hand. I frowned at him while he calmed down, for although my heart went out to him, he should see I was cross. It did not do to deal too leniently with him on these occasions.

I had ever regarded his abusive habit with worry and concern, but truth be told, in Holmes' younger years it had been nothing more than a whimsical fancy that would seize him now and then, and to which he would yield for his entertainment only. Still, during the preceding decade or so, I had observed the use of the drug was taking its toll on the detective, he was growing more dependent on it and would use it on frequent and various occasions, as a remedy for discontentment, fatigue, black moods and even loneliness, I presume.

"Holmes!" I gazed earnestly at the man who was blinking rapidly, as if trying to get rid of something that stuck to his lashes. "Was that necessary?"

" 't was", he issued hoarsely. "Give me another glass of water, Watson."

I obliged him, thereby emptying all that was left of his wretched solution out of the window. When he had downed his second glass, he began to look a little more human, but my anxiety was far from wearing off.

"I know it is not nice to say: I told you", I remarked sternly, "but I have to. How often _did _I actually tell you, Holmes? Refrain from poisoning yourself with this devilish substance. It can't do you any good, it really can't."

He did not reply, but stared at the opposite wall, his gaze unwavering, his face ashen.

"Why tonight of all nights?" I nagged. "you know you are supposed to give the best impression possible, and this is what you do to grant it!"

He did not give an answer. I gripped him by the shoulder.

"Do you even hear what I'm saying, man?"

"I do. Thanks for your concern, doctor", he said indifferently. I sighed and run my hand through my freshly coiffed hair, putting this effort to naught as well.

"Would you like to stay in here, Holmes? Shall I invent an excuse for you?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "That would be a waste. Having administered the injection for the sole purpose of surviving the evening, I should see this through and accompany you."

"But will you be able to….?" I hastened to assist him as he rose, but he shook off my helping hand.

"I'm fine, _thank_ you, doctor!" he claimed with select coldness, as if he had not been literally begging for me to give him a drink of water a few minutes ago.

I pulled back and watched him getting ready, he put on his frock and shoved the cigarettes inside, all arched eyebrows and curled lips although his feet staggered.

"Shall we, Watson?"

oooOOOooo

We had hardly descended the stairs when we head the curbed chatter of people and the gentle ring of Chopin's _Valse Brilllante_. The scent of many different sorts of bouquets, mingled with the perfume of many a beautiful woman, benumbed my mind. Even in the small anteroom to the ball room was crowded with people who stood in small groups, holding champagne goblets and making animated conversation.

The first glance to the hall took my breath away, the mellow light from the chandeliers made the wooden parquet floor gleam and the large French windows had been opened to the balmy night, newly lit torches illuminating the baroque pleasure gardens outside.

"It is awe-inspiring!" I muttered.

"I'm glad you should think so", a female voice pronounced close to my ear. "Good evening, Dr. Watson. It's wonderful to have you here tonight. And you, Mr. Holmes."

"We are most lucky to have the opportunity to attend Your Highness' ball", I returned politely, but honestly. We stood for a couple of minutes, engaged in formal chit-chat, or that is to say, the Gräfin and I were. Mr. Holmes remained silent, though he gallantly kissed our hostess' gloved hand on her welcoming us. I was a little concerned for my friend when her Highness swiftly garnered a string of people around us, all of which desired to make our acquaintance. I am sure he experienced it as quite an ordeal, but he seemed intent on persevering through the evening.

Talking as little as possible, he restricted himself to sipping on the champagne the Gräfin had supplied him with from the tray of a passing waiter in livery. I had the impression we had met each and every one of her kith and kin, when finally, I discovered a familiar face in the assemblage.

"Fräulein Luise!" I cried delightedly. "What a pleasure to see you again!"

"Dr. Watson", she said with a cheeky smile that belied her reticent tone. "I delight myself also."

With a very lady-like attitude, she offered her bare, chubby hand to me, but her round eyes already moved on and rested on my comrade.

"Is that Sherlock Holmes?" she simply asked, not waiting for an introduction.

"Well…yes, he is", I stammered confoundedly. "Holmes, this is Fräulein Luise. Her father is the Duke of Bavaria. We met earlier today, in the garden."

"It is my privilege, madam", Mr. Holmes stated, not remotely interested in who he was confronted with _this _time.

Fräulein Luises eyes, on the other hand, had not once left his visage during the introduction, and they more and more resembled of a pair of saucers. I felt amusement and perhaps a little envy. Apparently, Holmes had found yet another admirer.

**Huh, that was a bleak one. Sweet Lord, what a mess! Holmes truly is more conceited than any diva, but he's also a poor devil. I feel pity for him and solemnly promise not to do this to him again. And yet another harassing female – though her interest does not lie with his investigations….dunno whether that's a comfort to him.**

**Reviewing will bring good karma and happiness ever after!**

**Lots of love, Mrs Forsyte**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: At the ball

As I had almost suspected, Fräulein Luise stood out from the crowd even in the way she was dressed. Most of the young ladies had come in bright, flouncy ball gowns, their waists accentuated by tight sashes and their bodies bent into the fashionable, but awfully uncomfortable S-curve by their corsets, of which I as a doctor must strongly disapprove. The Bavarian duchess, however, had not forced herself into something quite so uncomfortable, she wore a shoulder bare dress reminiscent of the empire style, but tightening around the calves and with loose sleeves. It featured a peculiar pattern that was repeated in her head gear, hiding all of her cinnamon coloured hair.

I felt deeply for my friend, who started to squirm under the lady's lingering gaze.

"Delighted", she eventually murmured, the mere sound of the single word implying something more than even delight.

"Well…would you care for a drink, my dear?" I intervened, desirous to give Holmes, who looked passably horrified, an opportunity to leave for a moment.

"Thank you, doctor", she replied smilingly. "I have already many drunk."

I believed her without hesitation, for although she bore herself impeccably, her voice betrayed a slight giddiness. In addition, she continued devouring my poor companion with her eyes. I was highly confused.

It was not that Holmes was particularly unappealing to women, but certainly he was not worthy of such undivided attention, I thought grudgingly. After all, his frame was rather lean, and his now mussed hair tinged with grey at the temples. Still, I have often observed that minor and even not-so-minor flaws are graciously ignored by some women when there is money or fame to make up for it, and of the latter my friend had abundantly.

"Mr. Holmes", she chimed in a melting tone, handing him a little billet, "may I the honour have?"

A more thorough observation informed me of it being her dance card. Apparently, she was bound to waste no time.

"Naturally, madam", Mr. Holmes returned with an awfully forced smile. I could tell he strained to remember his instilled manners. "The slow valse would be convenient, I reckon?"

Obviously, he wished to get over with it, and therefore chose the dance the ball would be opening with.

"Thank you, sir. Dr. Watson?"

"Oh! Um – of course." Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, I signed in for the _Allemande._

"Wonderful! I'll you after the dinner see, gentlemen!" She flashed us another smile and scurried away, no doubt determined on getting her card filled ere the evening began officially. I laughed heartily.

"Congratulations, my dear chap! I wasn't aware you had such forces of attraction. That's quite a conquest you've made! And a duchess, too. One day, she'll own one third of this country!"

Holmes writhed. "I assure you Watson, I did nothing to encourage the lady into – "

"Yes, I know, old man", I chuckled wisely, not wanting to rub it in. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll have an enjoyable evening."

And I turned away to the approaching Gräfin before he could give a waspish reply. Her Highness was in the company of the pleasurably agitated Agnes and a man that could only be her husband the Graf. He was shorter than her by an inch or so, but bully and broad in the shoulders, on his neck the square and heavy skull of the Prussian. He was bald, but with a large moustache and an even larger jaw.

"Gentlemen." Agnes and the Gräfin curtsied to us, and we bowed in return.

"My dear Mr. Holmes!" Agnes spluttered eagerly, not letting her Highness breathe a word. "How charming. Did you get on with the investigation? We really must have a talk to see whether our results tally. Anyway, it is wonderful you could come! These parties are a trifle dull sometimes, with the same faces over and over again. And it is a great advantage to have as many gentlemen attending as possible. Our cards are not nearly filled and we are still in need of someone to escort us to the table…"

Her Highness cleared her throat cautiously, interrupting the flow of Agnes' merry chatter. The three of us turned to her and the brawny man by her side.

"Please allow me to introduce my husband, the Graf of Baden. _Friedrich, dies sind Sherlock Holmes und sein Gehilfe Doktor Watson"_, she explained, almost too fast for me to catch on.

The Graf, for his part, regarded us with as much condescension as he could muster, given the fact that both of us towered above him. He even took the trouble of re-adjusting his monocle for this purpose. We had been informed he ignored the English language, and yet he required no words to express his feelings towards us.

I observed his deplorable wife was kneading her hands in the long glacé gloves. She clearly was dreadfully uncomfortable. I felt compassion for our hostess, whose husband's decided coldness rendered the situation difficult for her.

All of a sudden, my companion stepped forward and extended his hand, looking straight into the eyes of the german aristocrat, and out of sheer instinct, the other man grasped it, his mouth gaping in surprise.

"It is an exquisite honour indeed, Your Highness", Mr. Holmes said quietly. While his pronunciation was awkward, the words came fluently and in correct German. "If I am not much mistaken, there'll be the summons for dinner shortly, as Your Highness is in the habit of wearing false teeth, and took the precaution of removing them. Yes, the indentation on the palatine is quite pronounced. If I may have the permission, I would like to accompany Her Highness the Gräfin to the table, and you might consider taking your friend, the Freifrau Agnes. I'm afraid she is a little bored and surely will rejoice in your delectable company."

I will not attempt to portray the not too shrewd look of the nobleman's face, when Agnes, who enjoyed herself visibly, slipped her arm around his. As a matter of fact, the sound of a gong rang through the ballroom just one instant later, and a slight commotion started as people departed in pairs for the dining room.

Mr. Holmes insinuated a curt bow to the Gräfin, who modestly placed her hand on his forearm, and off they went, leaving me with the fuming, humiliated Graf and the enchanted Agnes, perfectly oblivious to the fact she had been tricked into keeping her distance to my friend.

oooOOOooo

The ball souper surpassed my most adventurous expectations. I don't think I have ever before or afterwards dined so excellently. The hors d'oeuvres alone would have cost me my annual war pension, and the Rhine wine flowed like water. In between _Coquilles St. Jacques, _caviar tartlets and Burgundy snails in garlic sauce, I tattered with Frau Mahler, who was my neighbor to the right. She still looked pale and fatigued from the journey, and maybe there was even more on her mind. Several times she enquired after any progress we may or may not have made up to now, but I did not feel entitled to give away what little information I had, and kept to replying evasively, yet optimistically.

I also recollected she was expecting her husband to arrive at Schwetzingen in short time, and on my part asked her a question to that effect.

"He let me know he would be taking ze night train from Saverne", she stated, anxious wrinkles marring her handsome face, "but ze transport system in ze Alsace is neither very efficient nor reliable. I assume he will be here early tomorrow, though."

And she cast a quick glance at my neighbour to the left, her brother-in-law Johann. He was a morose, taciturn fellow, tolerably good-looking but he had something unpleasant to his facial expression, a kind of sulking, constant dissatisfaction. He was nearly as disagreeable as the other chap, Leopold, to whom, as Frau Mahler had chanced to mention, he was linked by something akin to friendship.

Contrarily to Leopold, however, Johann was a grown man, closer to thirty than to twenty. There something very military about his person, something that not only his smart navy uniform could account for. His shoulders were square and his waist narrow, the blonde hair and sideburns neatly trimmed. I could imagine he might have the makings of a role model for the lad, though personally, I most definitely disliked him.

I saw Fräulein Luise eye him with interest across the table, every time she was not busy drooling over Mr. Holmes, that is. My head turned to Frau Mahler as if of its own volition, and I wondered whether there might be a spark of truth in what my comrade had suggested the previous evening: Frau Mahler's being attached to the young man in a more than familial manner. It was within the realms of possibility…but if so, did he feel in the same way? Could he feel for the wife of his brother, a woman nearly twenty years his senior?

I was disturbed in my daydreams only when Frau Mahler addressed me with a question, which she was doing for the second time now.

"I beg your pardon, what did you just say?"

She quirked one raven eyebrow. "I enquired whether you and Mr. Holmes will participate in ze game tomorrow. Ze murder game."

"Murder game?" I blinked in obfuscation.

"Assuredly. We anticipate fine weather, so Wilhelmina has prepared some outdoors entertainment." She smiled clemently. "I suspect she did it in order to please Agnes. Ze poor zing suffers from tedium, I imagine, zis place is slack wiz crimes and ze misfortune which befell me was not quite in her line. She's fond of a decent murder, you see."

"Well – but what _is _a murder game?"

The lady was ready to elaborate, but the main course was being served this instant, and for a while our attention was focused on _boeuf bourguignon_ and partridges stowed with chestnuts.

"So…the game", Frau Mahler resumed a little later, delicately placing her cutlery on the plate, handles pointing in one direction. "It is quite simple. Everyone will draw a lot, and one of us will get ze 'murderer'. Zis murderer will try and catch somebody alone, and 'kill' him. Ze killed person has to lay down and remain zere until found by someone else. Ze murder has to be committed within one hour. After it has elapsed, we will come together again. Zen everyone has to give an alibi for ze time of the murder, which requests zat you keep track of your whereabouts, naturally. Finally, everyone wiz ze exception of the victim will try to figure out which alibi is false. For zis purpose, you will have to recollect whom you have seen where and when, and reconstruct ze course of events. Your celebrated friend should like it."

"I'm sure. It sounds quite interesting."

"Ze game can be played in several rounds", Frau Mahler proceeded. "It's a pleasurable pastime when ze weather is nice, I've found."

Honestly, the scheme sounded rather infantile to me, hardly a suitable occupation for adult persons. Yet I remembered Graf and Gräfin had an interest in jollying Agnes along. Perhaps the idea was not a bad one, after all. At least, it would afford us an opportunity to have a look-around on the property.

"Will you participate in the game?" I asked Johann Mahler, more out of politeness than actual interest.

"If it pleases Her Highness to send us about, behaving like little children, there is nothing I can do about it, now is there?"

"Johann!" Frau Mahler admonished him. "I zought it was a very charming idea. You should be grateful to have a bit of a change from your eternal marine training!"

Her younger relative shrugged his shoulders and carried on with his dinner.

We had come as far as the dessert, which was truly superb. I supplied my neighbour with a helping of sherbet champagne and myself with _oeufs de neige_, when my eye fell on Holmes. He was not eating at all, unsurprisingly. I knew well he did not care for sweets, and yet I wished I had observed him more closely to ascertain whether he had eaten anything. Next to him, the Gräfin took pleasure in making one-sided conversation, inviting both of us for the Asparagus season next year, I believe. Her mood was much improved, she seemed to be nearly relaxed, as long as she did not look at her husband, that is to say. The Graf would lock eyes with her from time to time, then huff and avert his regard. Agnes, seated by his side, was keeping colloquy a-going all by herself as well, laughing a lot and getting glowing cheeks like little red apples from the sparkling wine.

Her protégé Leopold was sitting on her other side, apparently slightly irritated. Opposite to him, pretty Fräulein Luise closed her soft lips around a spoonful of _mousse au chocolat_ in rapture. I do not think I've ever found myself in the company of people so average and ordinary in many respects – and yet so inscrutable.

oooOOOooo

"Shall we dance?"

It was a little later, and the initial valse had begun in the ballroom. I had escorted Frau Mahler back there, and seeing that she had no dance partner, I offered myself readily.

"I'd like that – thank you!" she gave me a warm smile, and her teeth shimmered, competing with the sapphires in her jet black hair and around her neck. Carefully placing one hand on her back and taking her right into the other, I listened to the music for a moment to get the rhythm, and we slowly valsed out on the floor, filing in with the other couples.

Not far from us, I discovered the Graf and his wife, who had opened the dance together. He was glaring at her lugubriously, and she sought to evade his eyes, peering down on her feet most of the time.

"Your Cousin seems to be a very grave man", I remarked cautiously to my dance partner. She chuckled.

"Oh, not all is as it seems. Friedrich is a very decent man, he's doing a lot for ze people on his territory. He may be a tad severe, but at least he's a loving father and husband", she claimed, that strange little shadow flitting over her countenance again.

"I understand."

I gently spun around with her, catching sight of Mr. Holmes, the lucky partner of a very eligible dancer. I could see many men turn their heads as the pair passed by, but Fräulein Luise wholly ignored them, casting ardent glances at my inapproachable friend. He did his best to miss them, now and then wrenching half a smile, but when he met my gaze, he rolled his eyes heavenwards. I could not but laugh a little.

"A most curious girl, the little Bavarian duchess, don't you think?"

Frau Mahler's mouth set into a thin line. "I don't know. I am not acquainted wiz her", she stated with such determination that I felt altogether discouraged from talking, and fell silent. Luckily the dance had come to an end a few beats later, and observing that Graf and Gräfin retired from the dance floor, Frau Mahler urged me to join them.

"Dear Margarete!" Her Highness smiled, taking her friend by the hands. "What an adorable gown you're wearing! I said just now to Agnes how lovely you are looking tonight. Didn't I, Agnes?" she beckoned to the old lady, who came in a scuttle.

"Absolutely marvelous!" she affirmed. "I'm sure you will have many dances tonight with Dr. Watson here and the other gentlemen."

Margarete Mahler smiled gratefully at the other women.

"By all means", I nodded assertively. "You must see to it that you enjoy yourself – "

The smile disappeared from her face as if wiped off. "I am sorry – please excuse me", she muttered, and dived into the sea of surrounding people. A moment later, we were joined by Mr. Holmes and Fräulein Luise, whose bliss was as evident on her features as was the agony on his.

"Indeed, doctor. We must us all enjoy", she lilted, giving everyone a broad smile. I perceived the expressions on the faces of Agnes and Wilhelmina had grown somewhat stony.

"Good evening, Luise", the Gräfin said stiffly. Her husband remained silent, looming behind her figure, watching me, Holmes and Luise with equal distaste.

"Well…which dance is next?" I enquired, embarrassed by the oppressing atmosphere.

"The _Sarabande_", Fräulein Luise sighed. "Really, why dance we old dances that people even did at the time of baroque? Why dance we not something more fashionable?"

"Because we are people of a certain exaltedness of breading", Her Highness berated her amiably, but strictly. "We have dignity to preserve…traditions to uphold…we can't possibly dance outlandish dances from the Americas!"

"Bah!" the girl moaned with vexation. "No mambo, no shimmy, no ragtime…it's sad…"

The music had recommenced, and suddenly, without announcing himself by the faintest din, Leopold materialized next to me. He was in an exclusive evening suit, his hair combed back from his pretty, feline face.

"Fräulein Luise." He bowed courteously to our young acquaintance. "May I have dis dance?"

The maiden looked at him with mild surprise. "You may", she eventually said, beating with her lashes coquettishly. The two young people vanished into the crowd and I felt my friend send a dumb prayer of gratefulness to heaven.

"What's she doing here?" Agnes hissed, sending a scornful glance after the retreating form of the girl.

"I did not want to invite her", the Gräfin sighed, "Her father asked me to let her stay…"

Agnes shook her head in disbelief. "The cheek!"

Holmes and I exchanged a quick glance, but neither of us was able to ask a question, since our party was enlarged by a group of gentlemen at this moment, apparently hunting fellows of the Graf. Apart from that, Agnes had again come uncomfortably close to my friend. For the sake of saving him, I would have asked him to dance myself, but as this was not actually an option, we made an excuse and left, in quest of more suitable partners.

**Hi there! Ouuuf, that's been sweat and bloody tears again. Well, not literally, but in the figural sense. I hope it was worth it!**

**Yes, the dances are accurate for this period – jazz and latin dances were in the process of being developed, and surely they would have been danced in Europe by the time, if only in more liberal circles than the one we are contemplating. It was a time of upheaval and profound changes, which manifested in many ways. **

**And no, you can't tell a Prussian from a German by his skull – that was a kind of superstition disguised as a science, typical for the Victorian era. I believe they called it physiognomy, and it was claimed that every persons' origin as well as character traits could be deduced from the physique. That is why people in novels dating from this time are being described very much in detail – e.g. Sherlock Holmes.**

**I'll really have to start the mystery sometime soon….**

**All the best, Mrsforsyte**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter seven: The Murder Game

By two a.m., the guests had gradually started to depart. We were asked to join the other gentlemen in the smoking room for a drink of cognac, which we declined. Taking our leave and climbing the stairs with aching feet, Holmes and I looked forward to our respective beds, as we had been yearning for some sleep all way during the previous hour. The wistful sound of the very last dance echoed through the staircase.

"Dear me!" I covered my mouth in an effort to stifle a yawn. "I'm positively overtired. What a way to go, eh, Holmes?"

"I was subject to the impression you were having an essentially good time, doctor. You've hardly missed one dance in five hours!" he teased. "It is not much of a surprise you should feel physically drained."

I chuckled. "You of all people must talk! As your friend and biographer, I meticulously kept track of your movements. You danced four times with Her Highness the Gräfin, thrice with Frau Mahler, and you even asked the old lady for the _Gavotte_, all for the sake of escaping Fräulein Luise's advances."

"You see what I've been reduced to. I don't believe I've ever met with such an impertinent young woman as this one."

"She is rather an insistent flirt", I conceded. "By the way, Holmes, what was the meaning of it all? I mean the remarks of Agnes and Gräfin Wilhelmina. They can hardly object that much to the poor girl's presence, can they?"

"My dear Watson, I see nothing quite so wondrous in it. The Duchess possesses, after all, youth as well as a certain popularity with the opposite sex, which would be sufficient to inspire jealousy and spite in the other women. Furthermore, I deem it very apparent she embodies modernity and the more relaxed morals of our time, of which the elder ladies as representatives of the preceding generation naturally must disapprove. But we must not lose ourselves in the petty courses of womanhood", he sighed, passing his hand through his hair and pushing open the door to our apartment. "I am struck with fatigue, I have to admit."

"Right." Bestowing an inquisitive glance upon him, in search of a sign that the drug was still potent in him, I approached my own door. There was nothing to be found, however.

"Night, Holmes!"I called, stepping over my threshold.

He still stood on his, leaning against the door frame, deep in thought. On my words he hardly lifted his head. "Good night, Watson."

oooOOOooo

Direktor Mahler arrived on the morrow, with the same train that had brought us the day before. We had opportunity to make his acquaintance when he came down to breakfast in the company of his wife. I must acknowledge he was an affable man, not of a grand physique, but agreeable and with quiet, pleasing manners.

As predicted, the weather was fine and instead of sitting in the morning room, the party had moved out on the lawn. The mild rays were so enjoyable I stayed behind with Agnes and the Gräfin, taking another cup of coffee.

"The conditions are admirable for our game", Her Highness stated with satisfaction. "I have a blackboard in the parlour, on which I drew a chart of the gardens. Everyone simply can mark his alibi place with a cross later on. Agnes? Dr. Watson? Will you prepare the lots? Just fold them over once, like this. And please, be careful! Not more than one murderer. Once we had two, and it was awfully confusing until we found out…"

I did her bidding, waiting for a gap in the conversation, for I wished to manoeuvre it to the topic of Fräulein Luise, but that was quite unnecessary.

All of a sudden, Agnes wrinkled her nose and elbowed the Gräfin. "Look!"

I turned my torso in the chair and peered into the indicated direction, which showed me the open door to the parlour. Inside, Fräulein Luise had taken seat at the piano forte, jingling inexpertly and laughing along with Direktor Mahler, who was leaning against the instrument next to her. Their heads were so close together they nearly met, and I gained the impression of very close intimacy.

"An outrageous display!" the old lady sniffed with indignation. "And right under Margarete's nose! I wish they were at least discreet about their tête-à-têtes, for her sake."

"Agnes, please." Her Highness gazed at her plate fixedly.

"Well, it's blatantly obvious! Don't you think, Dr. Watson?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "You mean to say…if I understand you correctly…there is something going on between the two?"

"Going on, my word! There has been something going on ever since he first met her here three years ago. She was only seventeen. A scandal, that's what it is!"

"You really shouldn't relate to such things in public, dear." Wilhelmina was clearly vexed, but Agnes paid her no heed.

"It is truly disgusting. A shame to treat Margarete in this way. I'm really glad she has retired to her room so she doesn't have to witness it, although she must be conscious of it, too. Everyone is conscious of it, except for Luise's father, the Duke!"

I tried to override her disclosure, which obviously caused our hostess much pain, and looked back at the odd couple by the piano. What I had just learned truly amazed me. Fräulein Luise was still so young…what did she see in the middle-aged, bespectacled magistrate? It didn't seem to fit. And contemplated from another angle, what did he see in _her_? Luise was, though quite charming, a child compared to his years, while he had been fortunate enough to win a beautiful woman with a tender heart for his wife.

It appeared all so implausible. Yet there he was, confidentially bending down to her laughing face, gently upturned to meet his…After some moments, fraught with tell-tale glances, she attempted to play again, and he did not even hesitate to take her hands in his, with the flimsy excuse of trying to show her how to do it properly. I had already been wondering why he had not reclined, for he appeared to be tired from the nocturnal ride on the train. Obviously he could not bring himself to quit her presence, even if it was just for a few hours.

I re-turned to the bashful Gräfin. "It seems rather explicit indeed", I carefully remarked.

"Of course it is!" Agnes was positively furious. "Everybody can see it!"

"I know. That is what comes from elevating a commoner to our rank!" the Gräfin said fiercely and unexpectedly.

Raising one eyebrow, I observed her closely, astounded she should represent such views. The noblewoman apparently sensed she had given me offense with her inconsiderate utterance, for she quickly added: "It's all about ethos, of course. Mahler never possessed a noble ethos, hence he could never live up to our expectations, nor could he aspire to Margarete's level. Noble is as noble does, which does not include rank adultery!"

Here, I naturally could not contradict her. Certainly Frau Mahler was too good to be used in such a crude manner. The only thing I could hold to her husband's credit was that he wasn't being oblique, and yet, when I considered how anxious she was about the loyalty of his affections, I found his frankness more cruel than a pack of lies.

Perhaps I should have a word with Luise. I have often noticed young women tend to listen to my paternal advice, and moreover, I was convinced the girl was wholly oblivious to the damage she caused. She had a whole bunch of admirers, for heaven's sake, she should pick someone her own age. Wondering where Holmes might be and whether he had knowledge of the weird goings-on in this party, I stuffed my pipe and lit it, gazing out on the perfectly maintained lawn.

oooOOOooo

After breakfast, we assembled in the parlour, where Her Highness had installed the above mentioned chalkboard which displayed an imprecise sketch of the parkland, drawn by a clumsy hand. I watched the guests with interest and amusement while the Gräfin went through the rules of the game once more.

Most of the ladies, especially Agnes, were animated and eager for the fun to begin, whereas Johann Mahler looked undeniably sour and Leopold next to him seemed positively tense. Holmes had also appeared out of the blue, though more engaged in checking up on the fit of his brand new kid gloves than paying attention to the lady's explications.

Realizing I was watching him, he gave a court nod, but was in no mood to hook up with me when everyone filed out into the open air. The rules of the game demanded people gave the murderer a chance to catch them alone, so we dispersed and started to prowl the paths of the gardens solitarily. I chose the same direction I had pursued at the same time on the preceding day, but instead of reaching the Roman aqueduct as designed, I found myself entering a lengthy sandstone building, part of which was crammed with potted saplings of citrus trees, brought inside now that the climate was going to be harsher.

One wing of the green house was used for the storage of valuable marble statues, old originals of the ones allocated in the park, as a brazen plaque on the wall informed me. I ambled about idly, inspecting the art works. The demised Kurfürst obviously had never grown tired of classic antiquity and its gods. The entire pantheon had been accumulated in this room, there was Neptune with his trident, Jove holding the bolt of lightning in his closed fist, and the feisty Minerva, of which I already had admired the copy in her temple.

An effigy of Mother Nature particularly intrigued me, it had been placed in an obscure corner, and I had to step around it to admire the wreath on her marble locks and the cornucopia filled with the flowers of springtime.

An instant later, the swing-door to the room opened again, the giggle of a woman reaching my ears. I was about to step out of my corner and reveal my presence to the newcomers, but hesitated just the right amount of seconds to see Luise and Leopold, sharing an ardent kiss, oblivious to the fact they were surrounded not only by the stony, lifeless gods and goddesses.

Embarrassing as the situation was for _me_, I found myself unable to come forward and embarrass the young people. Thus, I remained where I was, compelled to observe what was happening right in front of me. Fräulein Luise seemed to enjoy the kiss, but Leopold quickly drew away.

Still holding her and looking into her eyes fixedly, he ejaculated: "I love you, Luise. I've ever loved you since our time together at your father's castle, at Pentecost. I've been waiting for your visit all summer. You have bewitched me."

She laughed, yet I could see she tried to avert her eyes. "Don't talk like that, Leo. Let's just carry on…"

She endeavoured to kiss his lips again, and Leopold had to let go off in order to evade her. "None of this, Luise. I'm perfectly serious. You must end it with Mahler. Everyone says he is too old for you – and he's married. But we are made for each other. Can't you feel it?"

She shook her head smilingly. "You know how much I like you, Leo. It's impossible, though. See sense. I love him…"

"You love him!" the youngster sneered. "You don't say! You love him so much you sneak in here with me, fooling around?"

"Tut, tut. If he knew, he wouldn't begrudge me the fun. After all, he's with woman himself – and _I_ am not jealous."

Leopold now seemed absolutely frantic, he grasped the girl's hands and pressed them insistently. "You will never be with him the way you could with me! Marry me, Luise, be my wife! Everyone would be so happy about it. Don't you see the pain you are causing Margarete? And your father almost counts on our betrothal…"

"But I wouldn't be happy, Leo", she returned quietly, still smiling. "Has the thought never occurred to you? Plus, _your _parents would most certainly be repulsed by the match. They despise me…"

The young man tore at his hair. "There might be a slight aversion, but they love me so much I'm sure they'll surmount it. Please tell me you will at least think it over! Please, promise!"

"Oh, Leo!" she sighed. "Very well, I will think about it, however don't indulge in false hopes. I can already tell you I will never take another man for my own as long as Direktor Mahler walks the surface of this earth."

Leopolds countenance darkened. "Fine!" he spat angrily. "I got that!"

"Don't be cross, Leo!" The lascivious girl pleaded, reaching up for his cheek, but she was unsuccessful in appeasing his wrath. He backed off and ran out of the room, banging the swing door behind him as he did so.

Luise stood in silence for one minute, her face betraying genuine concern. Finally, however, she shrugged her shoulder and tossed her head in a silly little laugh. Walking out of the hall, she left me behind among its marble inhabitants.

oooOOOooo

I abided fife more minutes ere I decided it was secure for me to leave the green house unseen. My latest discovery preoccupied me tremendously, I hardly took noted where my feet took me. More than before, I craved an opportunity to communicate the developments to Holmes. He might see a connection with our assignment, at least experience had encouraged me to keep my eyes and ears open to the entanglements of the persons involved.

As regards my private thoughts on the matter, I deemed Fräulein Luise lacking sagacity even more than previously. There she was, in the bloom of her years, and wasted it all by clinging to a man who could have been her father, while declining the proposal of a man her own age, rich, handsome, single, distinguished by rank and after what I had seen of his heart's condition, very much in love with her. It was insanity. And yet, has love ever been motivated by rationality? Has it ever been controlled by the brain, has it been handled with reason and still retained its romantic qualities? Certainly not.

My steps had led me across the lawn in front of the citrus green house, and at the far and, another antique temple towered high: A block of a building, topped with a dome that rested on four columns, so that the single statue of a young god could be plainly seen. I suppose it had to be Apollon, god of music, for he was holding an Aeolian harp in his naked arms.

The sight attracted me, but a glance at my watch told me the allotted hour had nearly elapsed, and I had to head back to the castle if I wanted to arrive in due time. With the definite intention of returning as soon as possible, I went away, my head still abuzz with distraught musings.

**Hi!**

**That's been short…sorry. However, the eavesdropping has been instructive, I think. Hopefully everything is still to your taste and in tune with Conan – err, Canon…*giggles madly at own joke* Okay see you soon, and for the next chapter I'll have another chart up which will give you better insight into the course of events.**

**Lots of love, Mrs. F**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter eight: The Cry in the Maze

Back in the parlour, nearly everyone had arrived. Luise was sitting as far apart from Leopold as possible, and as close to Mahler as defensible. She modestly smiled at me as I entered through the French windows, which earned her a disapproving glare from Agnes. The old lady stood by the blackboard and marked the Japanese garden with a chalky little cross. The Graf, his son and Johann Mahler had gathered in a corner, conversing, and over it all, Sherlock Holmes held vigil with a watchful eye. On my arrival he swiftly rose to meet me.

"Any steps taken?" I enquired with a hushed voice. He nodded, and a brief smile flitted over his features.

"Mystery solved. I have the key to the solution here, in my pocket", he confided in me, talking in a blur, too rapidly for a non-native speaker to catch on. "My only concern is how certain people will take to it." His pensive glance roamed the room and came to rest on the group of gentlemen, next to the fireplace.

"Perhaps you should do as Frau Mahler advised you. Just retrieve the items, no matter who took them, and restore them to their rightful owner."

The stubborn man raised a scornful eyebrow. "I think I shan't."

"But Holmes, surely…"

My words came to a dead stop when I realized I was talking into the void. Holmes had moved over to join the other gentlemen, and as my only other options were Agnes, who keenly envisaged me, clearly over-eager to communicate her latest findings to me, and the silent lovebirds on the settee, clandestinely entwining hands, I chose to follow him.

"…should play another rubber tonight", the Graf just told everyone who cared to hear, stumping his Tripolis cigarette into an ashtray. "No more dancing or running around. It has been hard on my health…"

For some reason, he threw a glance at my poor friend that was nearly murderous.

"Sure father. If you are feeling gouty…" Leopold acceded.

"Well, but let's not play some child's game", Johann Mahler demanded with a sneer. "In the first instance, let's play for money, otherwise, what is there to gain? Which reminds me", he grinned hideously, "you're in my debt still, Leo. Hopefully you intend to pay before I return to Wilhelmshaven?"

Leopold's girlishly pretty face first blanched and then suffused with a shameful hue of red. I almost pitied him when I observed Luise's lenient smile, which demonstrated her depreciation only too well.

"Of course you will get your due", he replied hurriedly. "It's no matter at all. The sum can easily be raised, only I haven't had occasion to see my bankers yet, since father insists nobody is to leave the castle."

His Highness the Graf eyed him with a frown, but made no comment. I thought what an indiscreet, unfeeling sort of a chap Johann had to be to expose his alleged friend to such embarrassment, when female laughter suddenly became audible. Her Highness swept in with Margarete Mahler, both of them in twin sets of skirt and jacket in autumnal tints, and appareled with wide straw hats and walking sticks.

Beholding her adulterous husband and his mistress, that had hastily moved apart, Frau Mahler's cheerful laughter died on her lips and she followed the example of Gräfin Wilhelmina, who passed them without a word and made her cross on the blackboard.

"Very well", Her Highness said and the conversation of the men faded. "Here we are, at last. And everyone's given an alibi, as far as I can see…Oh! No, someone hasn't."

She compared the chalk crosses and the little scrawled names with the persons present. Sweat started to break from my forehead as she beckoned me to come forward and add my alibi. I considered forging one, but was aware it would be to no avail, for Holmes would know somehow where I had been, by some splash on my trousers most likely. Thus, I awkwardly stepped to the board and gingerly made a mark on the green house, which already bore the signatures of Leopold and Luise.

The boy did not seem to notice at all, taking little interest in the progress of the game I reckon, but Fräulein Luise's eyebrows climbed her even front and I felt her gaze rest on my back almost painfully.

"Well, well, now everybody's given an alibi and for all that I can see, I have been widowed. My Friedrich has met his maker by the border of the lake, I perceive." The Gräfin smiled indulgently at Agnes, who hampered on her seat, clearly thrilled by the fact a murder had taken place, even if it was not quite genuine. "Any ideas, anyone?"

If I may be so bold, it is beyond doubt the Freifrau Agnes committed the deed", Sherlock Holmes remarked, and everybody groaned in annoyance.

"Mr. Holmes! That is not fair. You've ruined the round for the others!" Agnes complained. "The fun is gone. How did you even know it?"

"It is of little importance", my friend replied smugly, but neither Agnes nor the rest of the party would be satisfied with that. Feeling everybody's eyes on his person, the detective uncrossed his legs and got up from the seat he had resumed, slowly pacing the room. "In all probability, I wouldn't have known, had I not myself encountered the 'corpse' by the lake side."

The corners of his mouth twitched. I observed the German aristocrat's mimic was corresponding in a way, only he was gnashing his teeth. The humiliation he would have derived from such an encounter was easily imagined. The noble Graf obliged to lie on the ground, and endure Holmes' careful examination no doubt, not even able to verbalize his protest, for I had remarked my friend's linguistic capacities had a tendency of diminishing in the degree it was convenient for him.

"Applying the rules of deportment I would have applied in a real case, the first thing to do to examine the ground", Sherlock Holmes elaborated. "I was able to distinguish a pair of footprints that doubtlessly stemmed from a woman's shoes. The prints were remarkably small, consequently the murderess was either very young or very much aged, which left me a choice between Fräulein Luise and Madam Agnes. I decided the latter would probably be the more likely choice, as I could see she had stood conversing with His Highness for a while, long enough for him to smoke a cigarette of the Tripolis brand."

I admired my friend for the tact with which he avoided mentioning his conclusion was founded on the fact that the Graf detested his youngest guest. His train of thoughts was perfectly clear to me, even if it still left some of the auditors bewildered.

"Um – well!" Her Highness nervously clasped her hands in front of her waist. "Very well done, Mr. Holmes, I'm sure. I would only ask you to give your less accomplished game partners a chance when we embark on the second round."

Holmes quickly drew breath, smiled and with a suave wave of his hand acknowledged her admonition.

"Thank you. But before we continue – would anybody perchance care for tea?"

Our hostess amiably smiled at everyone. Nobody wanted for tea. Frau Mahler and Agnes, the only ones who really enjoyed the game, desired to go on. Fräulein Luise and her amour clearly sought an opportunity to elude our company, and the gentlemen accepted their lot, wanting to get over with it.

oooOOOooo

Thus, we emerged from the parlour once more, fanning out over the premises. Relenting to my first impulse, I made my way back to the Apollon temple, of which the pinkish sandstone could be seen from the green house already.

It was a most unusual edifice, with playfully designed corridors tunneling the ground floor, and on top of it, the dome I had admired beforehand. Panting heavily, I ascended it and stood next to the statue of the musical deity, which afforded me a wonderful view, almost as far as the castle.

To the right of the temple, I overlooked a maze of box hedges, tamed by secateurs and framed by a high sandstone wall. To the left, a small maple grove hindered the sight, only the roof of some smallish house peeking out from between the treetops.

Musingly, I stepped out onto the vast terrace stretching behind the dome. I was quite alone, and had the leisure to observe the beauty of the dying nature around me. Leaves had long started to turn yellow and red, and also the grass was dotted with little splashes of colour which I knew to be corn flowers and meadow saffron. In one corner of the stone bannister, a spider had weaved her silken web. It slightly shivered in the light breeze. The garden land beneath me breathed of peace and of humid earth. Dandelion sent their parachute seeds flying.

I swirled my cane idly and wondered wither to proceed. There were two sets of stairs branching off the temple, one reaching down to the entrance in the wall surrounding the maze, the other trending to the left, to the maple grove. I chose the latter possibility, descended the steps with my cane still swirling, and, to my own surprise, singing aloud.

"_Early one morning/ just as the sun was rising/_

_I heard a maiden singing/ in the valley below…"_

Whilst I strode between the narrow growing tree trunks, I gained more confidence and warbled my song. To be honest, I had always fostered some little pride in my baritone, but had taken care to hide it from Holmes, who deemed himself my superior in everything and was regularly furious when I dared to prove him wrong.

_Oh, don't deceive me/ Oh, never leave me/_

_How could you use a poor maiden so?"_

The trees thinned out and I stood in front of the house whose roof I had seen from above, surrounded by a new-mowed lawn. It was the sprucest little white house I had ever seen, and I wondered about its purpose or if it served one, for it was no sanctum.

"_Gay is the garland/ and fresh are the roses/_

_I've culled from the gardens/ to bind on your brow…"_

I advanced with slow strides. Sun had again become very forceful and I considered sitting on the lawn for a while.

"_Oh, don't deceive me/ Oh, never leave me/_

_How could you …"_

I stopped. There was someone on the lawn already, face down. A woman. A shudder went down my spine. I took to my heels and sped towards the motionless body. Thick black hair waved from under a bonnet.

"Frau Mahler!" I ejaculated, stooping over her and touching her back with an unsteady hand. To my great surprise and relief, she turned around, issuing a silly giggle.

"Hush, doctor. I am dead, don't you see? Murdered."

"Oh." I relaxed, feeling my behaviour had been stunningly asinine. But then, my experience with Holmes had taught me to always assume the worst case. "Yes. Of course."

"I heard you singing in ze woods", Frau Mahler went on with a smile, and my embarrassment augmented. "You do it rather nicely. We must have a _Liederabend_ one of these days."

"Certainly", I stammered, perfectly abashed. "Please, what kind of house is this? It looks newer than the other edifices in the park" I enquired in my confusion.

"Perhaps a little", she conceded. "It's ze ancient bath house. A hundred years ago, people would come here from ze castle to use ze facilities." She slightly blushed, as if taking a bath were something quite unseemly.

"I see. These premises are immensely interesting. But I must be on my way now – there are still so many things to be discovered."

"Be careful!" she called after me. "Ze murderer's on ze loose and I have an inkling he's still close by."

I tipped my hat with my cane in a demonstration of thanks for her warning, and again traversed the grove, emerging on the lawn in front of the Apollon temple. The one thing I had yet to explore was the maze, now opposite of me, and truth be told, it piqued me. I remembered how as a small lad I had been fond of the maze in the garden of Hampton Court where our nurse used to take us, although it had taken me hours to find my way out every time.

There was an opening in the wall into which exactly the stairs from the temple discharged, and by this I entered the dark green jungle of the hedges. It had countless twists and turnings, and very soon I had completely lost my compass and just fared about aimlessly. I had no idea how to get out in time for my return to the castle. Consulting my watch, I lowered myself onto a little stone bench that presented itself to me conveniently. It was a quarter to one. Perhaps if I just…

I received the shock of my lifetime when this very moment, someone leaped at me from behind and pressed a hard, spiky object into my back.

"What the…?"

"Excuse my boldness, dear doctor", Holmes responded carelessly, removing his cane from my shoulder blades and sitting next to me on the bench. "But I am quite convinced your untimely demise is inevitable."

"How could you -! Are you the murderer, then?" I spluttered indignantly.

His eyes narrowed. "A shrewd conclusion that speaks of your fine sense of observation. Now, if I may ask you, get into a lying position, on the ground please."

"Dear chap, surely you won't insist I…"

"Ah, ah, Watson. You won't argue with death itself, now would you? I must say Frau Mahler was a moribund much more acceptant of her fate."

"This game simply is ridiculous", I huffed. "Positively decadent, all of these people. Which reminds me, what about your actual assignment? You told me you held the key to the mystery."

"Ah, indeed, here it is." He blithely reached into his jacket and produced a large rusty key which he handed to me. I scrutinized it doubtfully.

"What is the matter, Watson? Do you see any problem with my results?"

"I would never permit myself to do so. Only when you said you held the key to the solution, I naturally assumed you were using a metaphor."

Sherlock Holmes snorted derisively. "Surely you know me well enough to know I am saying everything exactly as I mean it, no euphemisms, no depreciations. But we are digressing and I suspect it was your intention that we should. Now on the ground, doctor, if you will."

Sighing, I rose from my seat and returned the old-fashioned key to him, fully prepared to lie down and thereby leave this world, when suddenly a fierce cry, shrill and agonized, pierced the hedges. The voice that had produced it was male, and within seconds, my mind rushed back to Leopold's irate face in the green house, and the sweetly smiling one of Fräulein Luise, as she told him: _"I will never take another man for my own as long as Direktor Mahler walks the surface of this earth."_

"Mahler!" I gasped. My comrade had long jumped to his feet and swished past me, storming down the narrow corridor of even box tree.

"Come along Watson!" he yelled. "Quick!"

**Hello, dear readers!**

**Well, at last we have touched the crucial point. The cry in the maze. **

**Again, I encourage you to visit my gallery (via link on my site) and view the sketch of Apollon temple & surroundings, because I know it is very difficult to picture a location accurately just by description. **

**Now, what is going to happen, and will the innocuous murder game take a more serious turn? We shall see soon!**

**Loads of greetings and hugs, Mrs.F**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter nine: Murder actually

How my friend was able to find his way through the maze and even memorize the direction the cry had come from was beyond me. Most of the time, he was just one turning ahead of me, and the only thing I could hear was the shuffling of his feet and his ragged breath. Then, suddenly, the sound of his brisk steps ceased, and as I came round the corner, he was already kneeling next to a lifeless figure lying on the ground. It was not Mahler, however.

Shocked and moved, I caught a glimpse of the pretty young face with its shapely mouth so much used to laughter, and its large, now lack-lustre eyes. Obviously, she had only just expired. Bright red blood still soaked through her coquettishly lacy blouse.

"Sweet Lord!" I kneeled down to the other side of Luise's body, and out of an old instinct took her wrist to feel for a pulse that wasn't there. Those lips would laugh no more, and those eyes wouldn't send secret flirtatious messages. It was all gone. With his enigmatic gift of catching on with my ruminations, Holmes nodded gravely.

"Poor girl."

oooOOOooo

I have but a dim recollection of what happened immediately afterwards, but I know for certain that at a certain point, we were surrounded by people upset and agitated as I applied a rough-and-tumble examination to the corpse, while Holmes tried to verbally fend off the onlookers. It was to no avail, of course, and moreover, there were no traces to preserve. The ground, as we had found it, was too much disturbed in this area for a single footprint to be distinguished – as if a violent row had taken place.

His Highness the Graf, to my astonishment, was the most persistent of the intruders jammed up in the narrow turn of the maze. Behind my back, as I tried to bare the bullet wound without exposing the body to the spectators, I heard him argue with my colleague.

"You have no right, Sir, to keep us out of the place. This – tragedy – is in no form or shape related to the matter I employed you to clear up. It is, in other terms, not your business."

"Your Highness", Sherlock Holmes interrupted him with considerable coldness. "A murder has taken place. It is, therefore, very much my business to see to it the crime scene is treated with the utmost caution until the local officials arrive."

"How dare you to contradict!" The Prussian foamed. "You insolent fellow! You try to monopolize the investigation of the death of one of my guests, while being incapable of throwing light on the loss that befell another! Stick to what you are supposed to do, man!"

I turned around on my haunches and wanted to inform the blighter my friend had been very much capable of performing the feat, but the foot of so-called friend flipped back and kicked me into the shank rather viciously.

"Oww!" My whimper remained unheard, for Sherlock Holmes retorted loudly:

"I have good hopes of achieving my assignment, Your Highness. I must, however, insist a very serious crime has been committed which requires investigation."

"And you deem yourself the suitable man to provide it? Sir, this murder requires no intervention through nosey private detectives. The affair is sufficiently clear to leave it in the hands of ordinary policemen."

"Indeed? Now, if it is clear, whom of your circle do you charge with the crime, Your Highness?"

The bald man's beetle black eyes sparkled with fury. "You are talking sheer nonsense! Why would any of my party perpetrate such a horrible deed? You are supposed to be very shrewd, Sir, but I perceive not even the question of a motive has occurred to you as yet.

Can't you see the only reason why Luise should be slain is for her hereditary title, and the wealth and power that come with it? Naturally, there is somebody with a claim to the title behind it. Somebody who has sent an assassin. After all, it is no _tour de force_ to climb our walls, and we keep no dogs."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do. I advise you once more, Mr. Holmes, not to meddle with affairs that don't concern you. You will return to your prescribed task, and after its conclusion, you will clear off these premises, or better, off my territory!"

Having finished his irate speech, the bully Graf turned on his heel and tramped out of the mazy complex.

"Well, Watson…" Mr. Holmes sighed. "How is one supposed to react to such scornful antagonism?"

I got up from my squatting position and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "You have stood your ground admirably, Holmes. Only you could have chosen a less brutal means of making me hold my tongue. Why wasn't I allowed to set the wretch straight?"

Mr. Holmes issued a short, indefinable sound somewhere between snort and laughter.

"My good Watson, have you not heard what he said? We will be tolerated on this estate for the remaining durance of our assigned investigation. Therefore, it will progress in a drag, I'll wager."

"Well, if you see it in that light…"I trailed off, for Gräfin Wilhelmina had made her way through the propped corridor and presently filled in the space her husband had previously occupied.

"Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson. What a terrible misfortune. There is no hope of a miraculous recovery, I'm afraid?"

"None, Your Highness. She was dead already when we found her. A gunshot clean through her heart, fired from some sound absorbing weapon presumably, as there was no shot to be heard."

"Ah!" The noble lady appeared almost relieved, but recovered her attitude instantly. "Terrible, isn't it? The unhappy Luise, she was still so young. What will her poor father say?"

"Maybe he will be somewhat consoled by your condolence", I replied coldly. I had not forgotten the manner she had been talking about Luise earlier on, and in my consternation, I was infuriated against each and every member of the party. Out of all these people, Luise alone had succeeded in winning my entire affection. She may have been unreliable and selfish, but at least always frank, never breathing one word against one of her companions. It suddenly occurred to me that apart from the shallow, fickle interest of the men, nobody had harboured friendly feelings for the demised girl.

Her Highness seemed to sense my disgust with her hypocrisy, for she ceased talking and moved aside for Holmes and me as we withdrew on the arrival of the uniformed police officers, headed by Agnes, who blatantly relished the whole situation, dashing here and there with her lens and notebook like a cocker spaniel. In passing, my regard swept over Leopold's face as he stood by his mother. I was astounded to see bright tears fill his ebony eyes, which were invariably directed at Luise's partly concealed figure.

oooOOOooo

"I say, Holmes! Wither away so quickly?"

I panted, hustling after the detective, whose long legs seemed to cover one yard with each single stride.

"To the castle. Don't forget we are not entitled to question people ourselves. We have not an instant to loose!"

His pace necessitated me to jog, which took up all of my breath and kept me from asking further questions. The gravel crunched under our feet as we tread it, making for the parlour.

"Ah! It is intact," Sherlock Holmes sighed, stepping in through the French windows. Following suit, I perceived his relief referred to the chalkboard on which the alibis for the second round had been marked during our absence.

"Splendid." He took out a notepad and a lead pencil, hastily putting down the sketch on the board. I observed it closely, submitting the location of the respective crosses to my memory. It ran thus:

Graf – Mosque

Gräfin – Mosque

Direktor Mahler – Japanese gardens

Frau Mahler – Bath house

Johann – Roman Aqueduct

Agnes – French gardens

Leopold – English gardens

"Mind you, Watson", my comrade remarked, when he had finished copying the sketch, "these alibis are referring to my slaying Frau Mahler, which was just some fifteen minutes prior to the actual murder. Can you, by chance, confirm or invalidate any of them?"

I shrugged my shoulder. "I can only confirm that of Frau Mahler."

"When did you come across her?"

"Ten minutes prior to the crime, I should say."

"And afterwards?"

"I left her and went through the grove to the maze, where I met with you."

"Could she have followed unseen?"

Again, I shrugged my shoulders. "It is possible."

"You see, Watson – if you could cover the distance in less than ten minutes, so could she. Murder or murderess could even have had a secret appointment with the victim."

"It was prearranged", I agreed, "not a hot-headed crime. The culprit took the precaution of bringing a sound absorbing gun with him."

"Precisely. As it is, these alibis don't help us much, for none of them can be supported, except those of Graf and Gräfin, and we know what the support of a spouse is worth, namely nothing. If we were allowed to question the suspects, it would be different, of course. They might have encountered – or seen – each other. But such ponderings are vain. No, my dear Watson, I have a feeling we would do best by accepting that insufferable German's advice and emanate from the motive instead of the opportunity."

He flung himself down on the settee and searched his pockets for his short clay pipe. "By the way, what do you think of his suggestion of a political assassination?"

"I should think not, indeed! In my opinion, there are motives aplenty to be found within the ranks of the persons present."

"Oh?" He lit his pipe, raising an eyebrow, and tossed the burnt match into the fireplace. "Don't tell me you are in the possession of information I have failed to uncover."

"I was more at my leisure to do so, perhaps", I apologized for my superior knowledge. "You were busy investigating the other affair…"

"Quite, quite. What is it you've found out, then?"

"Well…" I lowered my voice, although we were all by ourselves. "I have incontrovertible proof for the fact Fräulein Luise was having illicit relations with our Direktor Mahler."

The eyebrows rose even higher.

"Furthermore, I overheard an interview between her and young Leopold, who seems to have been very much in love. He proposed to her, but she declined, declaring she loved Mahler, although I had seen her mess around with Leopold. The boy, naturally, was very angry and left her in a state of white-hot rage…"

"The irritability seems to run in the family. Did you receive the impression she was deliberately toying with the lad?"

I hesitated. "As a matter of fact, no. She appeared to be rather fond of him…she even said she would turn his proposal over in her mind."

"Ha!" Sherlock Holmes snapped his fingers. "You see, of course, the impact of this scene on the question of a motive? It provides one for almost every member of the company."

"Everyone?" I knit my brow. "As for Leopold, I can see you have a point. But as regards the others…"

"No, no, consider, Watson!" he leaned forward eagerly, intertwining his fingers and pressing the thumbs together as was his habit when excited. "There is jealousy on the part of Leopold. One. The girl, you said, was prepared to re-consider his offer of marriage, which, if he was aware of it, might have inspired jealousy in Mahler. Two. Frau Mahler's motive is evident. Three. As for Graf and Gräfin, you will agree with me they were most anxious to prevent a marriage between the louche Luise and their son, for whom they ate having such high hopes and ambitions. Four and Five."

"Remain Agnes and Johann", I reflected. "But surely, the old lady must be sorted out…"

"By no means. As a medical man, you must concede that with a fire weapon, an old woman is physically as able to commit a murder as a young man. Plus, she commands considerable powers of spirit and soul."

"No doubt. I would give her credit for perpetrating a murder, just for the sake of having police business over it and spinning wild theories. And perhaps she shared the anxieties of Graf and Gräfin. But what about Johann Mahler? Where could he come into play?"

"Ah, we couldn't tell, Watson. The only reason I could conceive would be his close intimacy with Frau Mahler, which might or might not make him act on her behalf."

"Good heavens", I muttered. My friend tapped his forehead with the mouthpiece of his pipe impatiently. "One thing irks me, though."

"Yes? And what would that be?"

"The cry, Watson." He re-placed the pipe between his lips. "The cry in the maze."

**Dear readers, I must confess I've come up with a new scheme that's been bouncing in my brain for a while now, but I'd like to hear your opinion before I start to map anything out. It's about a love story, pairing: Sherlock Holmes and a certain lady from the canon (**_**not **_**Irene Adler), one I've always thought would make a wonderful match for him. **

**I am aware romance is sort of prohibited in this fandom, though Holmes romances have been done before, some very fine and others not in the best of taste. However, I have one or two ideas of my own how to make the match plausible. So what do you think? Could such an attempt succeed or would you generally consider it totally blasphemous, un-canonic and out of character?**

**You decide!**

**I'm looking forward to hearing from you! Yours, Mrs.F**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter ten: In Chancery

The sunlight pouring through the windows of the parlour began to fall in oblique rays, while outside, the bluish shades lengthened on the lawn. Nearly three hours had elapsed since the strange cry had been heard by Mr. Holmes and me, and still neither of us could make head or tail of it.

"It doesn't make sense", Holmes repeated for the hundredth time. "The cry was male, we agree as to that. The victim, however, was female."

"Perhaps the murderer - ", I ventured to suggest, but his derision hit me without restraint.

"The murderer? A fiddle-stick's end! Why should he have cried? Because he had shot the girl? My good doctor, if we wish to stick to the assumption of a prearranged crime, this hardly is an option."

"Probably not." I sighed. "But who else would be there?" Hesitantly, I added: "maybe someone observed the deed being committed and…"

"Oh no, had he or she emerged this situation alive, he or she would have come forward by now. Don't you think?"

"Yes", I concurred.

A perplexed silence ensued. It was broken only by the sound of feet outside on the gravel. Simultaneously, we raised our heads.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" A fat little man in police uniform entered the room with an insecure smile. "Inspektor Schulz, Sir. How do you do."

My friend rose, surprise written all over his hawk-like features, to take the proffered hand of the Inspector.

"You will not remember me", the young police officer proceeded, his shaky smile flickering on his face like a flaring gas-lamp, "but we have met before and had a short, but interesting interview on the clumsiness of the guaiacum blood test and alternative methods. You had given a guest lecture in the subject at the medical faculty of Edinburgh University, in 1875 or thereabouts. I was then only a foreign student of biochemistry, but I am head of police in this town now."

"Why yes, I do recall that!" my companion's face radiated with satisfaction and secret pride. "Indeed, it was prior to our acquaintance, Watson. A short excursion into the academic world, and not a very successful one, I'm afraid. But I must mind my manners. Pray let me introduce my friend and colleague Dr. Watson, who has assisted me in so many past endeavours."

"It is my pleasure, doctor." The Inspector, more confident now he had been recalled, grasped my hand and pressed it cordially.

"You will be interested to hear, perhaps", Mr. Holmes continued, "that the question is no longer a puzzle to the scientific investigator, at least not to me. I succeeded in devising a test of my own, which grants reliability to a satisfactory degree."

"That is good news indeed", the Inspector, whose inflection actually featured a trace of the Edinburgh accent, enthused. "though I'm afraid that in the current situation, it won't help us much. I understand it was you, gentlemen, who found the body of the murdered Duchess?"

"That is accurate", I confirmed. "She had only just passed when we reached her. It was a quarter to one exactly."

"_Verstehe. _That is all very clear. Now, Mr. Holmes", he turned to my boswell deferentially, "do you have any theory that would cover the facts?"

"No practical one, I fear."

"But you got hold of some clues, I expect?"

The detective smiled flightily. "Perhaps. I could, however, supply you with some more information to go on if you could allot certain liberties to Dr. Watson and me."

"Of course! I should be happy to. Pray, what do you require?"

"Authority!" Holmes exclaimed. "Grant us the authority of questioning at least the principal suspects, Inspector, and I assure you we will have made some considerable progress in short time."

"That can be easily arranged", the obliging young man uttered. "Do you desire to start at once?"

"I do not see why I shouldn't. In the face of this woeful occurrence, there'll be no evening entertainment, and everybody should be available."

"That is true. Whom would you like to question, Mr. Holmes?"

oooOOOooo

"Pray have a seat, Direktor Mahler," Sherlock Holmes said, while getting up himself to stand in front of the fireplace as was his wont. The house maid had lit it just some minutes before. The chill gloom of early evening had started to creep into the Castle, but the parlour was warm and cozy, reminiscent of our living room in Baker Street.

"I should be glad if you could enlighten us on one or two points, and I would ask you to do so truthfully and without restraint, if you wish to persuade us of your innocence."

The man on the settee did not budge during the discourse of my friend. He appeared almost inhumanely collected, in him, I could discover nothing of the emotion Leopold had displayed earlier.

"First things first, I presume. What exactly was the nature of your relations with the Duchess?" Holmes enquired in his cool, detached manner, turning his back on the civil servant.

"Well – I imagine there is no use in denying we were having an extramarital relationship", the man frankly admitted.

"And was your wife cognizant of this relationship?" Sherlock Holmes desired to know, still averted.

"I…I think so. We took no pains to keep it secret."

"No – no, you did not." Holmes turned around finally and started pacing up and down on the heart-rug with a brisk gait. "Was it your intention, Direktor, to divorce your wife in order to be with Fräulein Luise?"

Mahler hesitated. "Not for some time to come. But in the long run, I suppose – yes. You see, I have been unhappy in the sad excuse of a marriage for a long time, and I can feel Margarete is equally miserable. It would be cruel and unnatural to carry on with what has become a burden to us both."

"Your wife dotes on you", I interjected, more severe than I had intended. Mahler flinched, and there was an uncomfortable pause.

"I must say" Holmes finally resumed the interrogation, "being aware of the state of things, I find it hard to believe you did not grasp the opportunity of being undisturbed with your mistress during the game. Did she actually go to the maze on her own? Or did you accompany her, by chance?"

Direktor Mahler cleared his throat. "I was in the almond garden at the time of the murder, just as I have indicated, Mr. Holmes. Luise and I parted for the game to continue as it was supposed to. You know the murderer – forgive me, it sounds macabre under the circumstances – has to catch his victims alone."

Holmes halted on the rug. He fixed his piercing eyes on those of Mahler. "And all of that is perfectly true?"

"Quite true, Mr. Holmes."

"Very well", the detective sighed. "That would be all, then. Thank you, Direktor…"

oooOOOooo

The next suspect was Frau Mahler. When she came in, her handkerchief was already much crumpled from constant kneading. I offered the lady the seat her husband had vacated, and she took it, gratefully smiling at me. Looking up at my companion expectantly, she smoothed her skirts and resumed kneading her poor hanky. Her hands did not keep still for a single second.

"If you don't mind, I will come straight to the point", Holmes declared, avoiding her gaze for fear she might burst into tears again. "Your husband informed us of his relationship with the deceased woman, and he claims you have been conscious of it as well. Is that correct?"

Drawing breath shakily, Frau Mahler nodded.

"Were you also aware of the fact he was about to divorce you for the sake of Fräulein Luise?"

"I – I was afraid he would", the pitiable lady whispered in her distress.

"I must ask you whether you harboured hostile feeling for the victim. Please be quite frank with us, madam, it would be only natural if you had."

"I didn't…" Frau Mahler stammered, "I mean to say – of course I was jealous – and miserable – but I've never done anyzing to harm Luise, you must believe zis!"

I laid a soothing hand on her shoulder, and she calmed down a little.

"If this be the case, madam, I would like to know whether you can offer any alternative explanation for what has happened. You have spent a great deal of time among the people that qualify for the deed. Surely you must have noticed anything out of the ordinary – especially as regards Luise?"

"No. No, I'm sure I didn't."

"Something about your husband, perhaps?" Mr. Holmes quizzed with an air of perfect calmness, as if enquiring after tomorrow's weather.

"You – I know what you zink – " I wanted to make her retain her seat, but she jumped to her feet, breathing laboriously. "You zink it was my husband who did it – but he didn't – he didn't – oh, I'm perfectly sure he didn't!"

"Frau Mahler!" Sherlock Holmes closely stepped up to her, and she recoiled and sunk back into her seat with an air of being completely intimidated. "I asked you to be frank with us! If you are so very convinced of your husband's innocence, then his cause would be best served if you told us everything, and I emphasize, _everything_ you know!"

Frau Mahler could take it no more, she broke down and sobbed violently. I sent a glance of dumb warning at my friend, who returned it stubbornly, but let go off her eventually. We waited some more minutes until Frau Mahler had regained some of her equilibrium and spoke of her own accord.

"I don't know…anything definite. Only zat zere is somezing on my husband's mind, but I'm sure it doesn't have anyzing to do wiz Luise's death. You see…" she sniffed once or twice ere she proceeded,

"I've found a letter between his papers when I unpacked his zings in ze morning. It was from ze administration is Saverne. Zey offered him anew, a higher post zan ze one he currently occupies. It concerned a truly magnificent promotion…When I put a question forward about zis, my husband grew very angry. He said – he said nozing in ze world would induce him to take zis post – zat he had lost all faith in our political institutions – zat he wanted to quit ze service of ze _Reich_!"

"Did he elaborate on the reasons of this sudden change of heart?" Holmes quickly asked. "I understand Direktor Mahler usually is a diligent, ambitious servant of his country?"

"he is…or let's say, he was…"

"Hum." Holmes paused again in his aimless roaming and furrowed his brow. "I think this will suffice at present, Frau Mahler. Pray be prepared to answer further questions, should the need arise."

The perturbed woman inclined her head in agreement and got up from the settee once more, and carefully, I directed her steps towards the door.

oooOOOooo

Now there was left only Leopold. His face had assumed a most sulky, pig-headed expression, and he did not follow our bidding to be seated. Once again, I was struck by his comely, youthful looks, and thinking of the elderly Graf and Gräfin, it seemed to me they must have been late parents. I made another effort to render his attitude towards us a little more favourable by offering a cigarette, but again, he declined. Folding the arms in front of his chest, he listened to what Sherlock Holmes had to say to him.

"It came to our knowledge that an illicit affair existed between the late Bavarian duchess and Direktor Mahler. Did you have knowledge of the fact?"

"I really don't know what you're asking me dat for, Mr. Holmes", Leopold snarled. "If it had been so, what is it to me?"

"A great deal, Your Highness – considering you have proposed marriage to the Duchess only today."

The face of the youth contracted with ire, and he turned to a muddy beetroot colour that did nothing to embellish his visage.

"You filthy snooper!" he shrieked, his veins pulsing madly. "You have spied on us! Oh, I wish my father had thrown you out when first you displayed your outrageous insolence!"

My friend chuckled in quite amusement. "I would very much advise you to calm yourself, your Highness. As to the compliment you paid me, it is in fact due to Dr. Watson here, one if my most trustworthy informants. You admit it is true, then?"

"Why – yes, we talked dat over, in de Orangery."

"You had a veritable argument about it", I corrected him placidly, "a violent one."

Leopold bestowed a murderous glance on me that his father the Graf would have been proud of. "How splendid! It necessarily follows, den, dat I have killed Luise?"

"Not necessarily", Mr. Holmes replied suavely.

"Ha, you don't deceive me with dat kind of talk! I know you suspect me, but I have nothing, you hear, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of! If you want to know who's slain her – den Mahler is your man!"

"My dear lad", I tried to appease him, "surely now you are – "

"I've seen him!" The boy cried with sudden conviction. "I've seen him myself!"

Holmes let sink the cigarette he had been about to light. "You mean to say, you saw him perpetrate the crime?"

"No – " Leopold was so excited he nearly choked on his own words. "I saw him – I was on de bank of de central lake, on de English garden side – I saw him, but he didn't see me!"

"What did he do, then?" Sherlock Holmes asked sharply, not moving a muscle, the unlit cigarette still between his fingers.

"He stepped out of de woods behind de maze – he – opened his coat – he took out a large pistol – and – and…"

"Yes?" I said calmly.

"He flung it out – into de lake!"

**Holy mother of God…What d'you think? Murderer, means, motive?**

**Thank you for your messages, I was thrilled to receive them! You should do that more often, it does wonders on my blood pressure. As regards love story…hum…I'll think about it…**

**Yours humbly, Mrs.F**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter eleven: Hide and seek

We stared at him speechlessly for several seconds. Sherlock Holmes exhaled in a hiss. "Are you aware of the gravity your accusation imports?"

"Dis is what I happened", Leopold persisted. "Dis is what I saw."

We exchanged a look dense with meaning. "You may leave us now", Mr. Holmes finally said, and the boy stormed out of the room as if its floor had been covered with white-hot coals. I turned to my friend.

"He can't be serious! Does he actually expect us to believe this cock-and-bull story?"

Holmes stroked his upper lip with the index, head and shoulders stooped. "It is an incrimination hard to refute", he concurred. "I wonder…"

He interrupted himself when Inspector Schulz returned to the parlour, scrupulously knocking on the open door as he passed it. "The Gräfin asked me to let you know supper has been laid out for you in your apartment. She didn't deem it proper to have a dinner party after this – this – "

"This most disturbing event", my colleague helped him. "Thank you, we will go upstairs presently."

The Inspector eyed him inquisitively. "Did you manage to find something out, ? How's the investigation going?"

"Oh, so so. It is fortunate you came to see us before your departure, as I have one or two requests to make to you."

"I am at your service", the younger man replied obediently.

"Well, firstly, I would ask you and your men to go out on the lake and search it for a large, heavy pistol with sound absorber."

The Inspector's face fell. "Mr. Holmes, I'm afraid this is – "

"Yes, I am aware this will probably be Sisyphean labour", my friend returned ungraciously, gesticulating with his unoccupied hand. "I am asking you to give it a try all the same. Somebody has allegedly been seen flinging it in from across the lake."

"I see…." The police officer sighed in resignation. "Very well, sir. And what was your other request?"

At this moment, Agnes rushed into the room, with sparkling eyes and feverish flecks on her wrinkled cheeks. She carried several little boxes in her arms. Holmes stepped aside and beckoned the policeman to join him. They conversed in low voices. The old lady revolved around herself several times before she determined on me as a prospective sharer of her passion.

"Ah, Dr. Watson!" she leaped to my side, scattering all of her little packages over the table where tea had been served for us an hour ago. "I simply can't stand it any longer to leave all of you in the dark, I must tell you what I have found out!"

"I would like to hear that very much", I fibbed.

"Look", she bounced up and down on her footballs, "I am quite convinced there is a connection between the two crimes that have taken place. What I mean is, how great is the probability of having two criminals amongst us?"

"I can hardly answer that, madam. Though I would hesitate to compare a profane theft with murder", I gently declared.

"Hush, that is quite beside the question!" she said impatiently. "if we assume a connection, there is at least one clue we can furnish as to the identity of the rogue. He is in want of mony."

"Possibly", I agreed, suddenly feeling the lateness of the hour and that I hadn't properly eaten all day.

"And I can even provide another: He is a smoker. He smokes quite a peculiar, foreign brand of cigarettes", Agnes prattled on. "See for yourself…" She grabbed one of the boxes, which, as I now conceived, contained the pieces of evidence she had collected. "Just look how peculiar!"

She opened the lid and took out the end of a cigarette, carefully wrapped in straw. A yawn surged up in me irrepressibly. "I found that on the ground in the maze, just a few yards from where the murder occurred", she explained.

"Indeed. I do not wish to discourage you, madam, but I'm afraid this is my friend Holmes' customary brand", I replied as considerately as possible. She dropped the end back into the box, banged the lid on top and sulked angrily. It was a piece of luck indeed that Holmes had finished his conversation with the Inspector and came over to release me.

"I would like to suggest, Watson, that we retire for the evening. It has been a long and eventful day with a great deal of fresh air, and I must confess my stomach feels as void of any content as our friend Lestrade's monthly police reports. Shall we, then?"

"Mr. Holmes!" Agnes pleaded for him to give her his attention, "wait a minute! I'm not quite finished, there is something else you have to…"

"In the morning, madam, if you don't mind", the tired detective cut her short. "I hope you'll have a very good night. And you, Inspector."

"Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson."

The young man inclined his head respectfully as we exited the room and left him with the disappointed Agnes.

oooOOOooo

Though overshadowed by the recent tragedy, our meal was a princely one. We dined on Oysters, veal chops in Calvados sauce and caramel cream, discussing the latest turn our case had taken.

"Do you think something will come of it?" I enquired, referring to the search for the pistol in the lake.

"I would be lying if I answered in the positive", he replied negligently, sipping on his glass of tokay, "but it is of secondary importance. My instincts suggest an altogether different course of action, but we will see to that tomorrow when the day is new."

"The old lady – " I began, only to be interrupted by the toss of his head and a short bellow of laughter. "Dear doctor, I sincerely hope she didn't pester you too much? I expressly hurried my interview with the Inspector to an end in order to unglue you!"

"It was not that bad, old chap. In fact, she brought up the topic of the two cases being connected. What do you think of that?"

"Very little", he stated decisively. "I do not know as yet who has slain the girl, but it is perfectly clear to me who abstracted Frau Mahler's valuables."

He extracted the rusty old key from his pocket, placing it on the tablecloth next to his plate.

"Who did it, then?" I breathed.

"Master Leopold. Oh yes – "he pushed back his chair and crossed his legs, "there can be hardly any doubt about that. You remember my searching the private rooms of the noble family in disguise?"

"Vividly."

"Well, I came across some letters in the lad's boudoir, letters whose contents, I assume, he would loathe to be known to his friends, and even more his parents."

"What were they?" I urged him. "Indiscreet love letters? Messages from socio-democratic circles?"

He shook his head gravely. "They were reminders by impatient creditors, Watson. It appears the prospective army officer has a fault after all. He's a gambler."

"Indeed!" I cried out, "I heard Johann Mahler ask him for his due today."

"Precisely. He is in it up to his neck. I suppose he let himself into the guest chambers, and finding valuables in Frau Mahler's apartment, he burgled her."

I knit my brow. "But the papers, Holmes, where are they now? The lad is not allowed to leave the estate. He must have hidden them somewhere."

"Oh, he has got a formidable hiding place." Holmes leant back on his folded arms comfortably. "Yesterday, when we were taking the stroll in the park, Her Highness herself pointed it out to us. You will recall she told us nobody ever entered the Mercury temple."

"Why - yes! But that is because it's dilapidated. Surely Leopold could not effect these particular circumstances?"

"He could not", Holmes returned pensively, "and yet I strongly doubt the degree of decay the temple allegedly has fallen into. It is easy to deceive people with a little bit of scaffolding - almost reminds me of the Speckled Band case, for in both instances, no repair was actually necessary. It was just camouflage – spread word of danger among people and they'll keep out."

I scratched my head in wonder. "But Holmes, where would Leopold have concealed valuables as susceptible to damage as those paper documents in a place so bare and open to the weather conditions?"

"I presumed I would be likely to find them in the cellar, to which, as the Gräfin mentioned, the key had been lost. Today, when everyone was engaged in the first round of the Murder Game, I snatched the opportunity of re-visiting Leopold's chamber and looking for what I was sure to find there – and ancient key."

"The boy purloined it?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"He did indeed. You know Watson, there's a freakish streak of secretiveness in some children. They like to have an unknown place where they can take their little treasures to. It is within the realms of probability that young Leopold was just such a child – and procured a safe hiding place where nobody would find him if he so pleased."

I nodded comprehensively. "So in this lair he cherished his secrets…marbles and tin soldiers at first, and later on…." I paused, and a grin stole on my face. "Did you by any chance possess such a secret place as a child, my dear fellow?"

His mouth twitched. "Don't be absurd, Watson. It is my habit to put myself into the place of the persons in question, to disclose their motives and trains of thought."

"Naturally", I acquiesced, though the smile would not fade from my face. "So, have you been there to secure the boy's treasure?"

"Been there – yes, secured - no. As I said, I would like the fire to be smoldering for as long as it takes me to unravel the other mystery."

"Well?"

He idly described small circles with the tips of his patent leather shoes. "Well…let's just say the items so dearly missed by Frau Mahler were not the sole prey of that fellow. I received the impression he is a habitual procurement criminal…maybe gambling is a kind of mania with him."

"You mean – an addiction", I said gently.

"I assume mania is a sufficiently suitable term to denote it."

He got up and moved over to the window, gazing out into the early autumn night.

oooOOOooo

I overslept a little on the next day. Consulting the time piece on my bedside table, I found it to be a quarter past ten. I got up, dressed in a hurry and rushed out of my room, presuming Holmes had already gone downstairs for breakfast. Yet when I passed his door, there was a distinct hubbub to be perceived in there.

"Holmes? Can you hear me, old fellow?"

When there was no reply, I prepared to leave without him. My shoes were lying about on the floor by the door, where I had left them last night. Picking them up and taking a seat in one of the easy chairs, I wanted to put them on, when suddenly a Prussian officer marched into the sitting-room.

"_AAAAchtuung! Stillgestanden!"_

The man clapped his heels together and raised the hand to his forehead, oblivious to the alarm he had given me. He was wearing the usual navy blue uniform, with shiny boots, a white sash across his chest and a German spiky helmet on his head. The face was almost obscured by a pair of enormous black whiskers, still I did not fail to recognize him.

"My dear chap!"

"_Links um!"_ my friend roared in the hoarse, aggressive staccato tone peculiar to military commanders, and turned to the left, saluting smartly.

I was stunned. Holmes had presented himself to me in many a clever disguise, but surely this was the most bizarre and at the same time the most complete transfiguration I had so far witnessed.

"What the deuce is the meaning of all this, Holmes? You startled me terribly with this masquerade!"

"Masquerade?" He peered down at me indignantly. "Watson, I happen to be Leutnant Erich Betzdorf, so pray spring to attention!"

I got up from my chair half-heatedly.

"Ha! Splendid. I am in the possession of some authority, at least. The entire morning I have berated myself for not listening more attentively to your recollections of military life."

"There's hardly any need for that", I grumbled, "you certainly are a first-class officer to ear and eye, but could you just be so kind as to explain this more than extravagant conduct?"

He chuckled and somewhat relaxed his posture. "It was no devil's work that changed me, rest assured. I am wearing this uniform courtesy of the good Inspector, who delivered it to me early this morning - alongside the official papers my new personality requires."

"Fine", I exclaimed, infinitely peeved, "but whatever for? Why set in scene this three-winged circus?"

"Watson!" he closed up to me, fixing his eyes on mine earnestly. "Don't you remember what Frau Mahler told us yesterday? The letter she found among her husband's things? If a formerly ambitious clerk declines a formidable promotion, there must be some concrete reason behind it. I am afraid this strikes deeper than we supposed at first – something serious is going on, something obscured from our sight. And I presume the answer to all this can be found in Saverne."

I began to see what he was driving at. "You're leaving?"

"I am going up incognito, just for a few days. You may tell everyone I left the case in your hands."

"I'm coming with you!" I ejaculated.

"No!" he firmly gripped my shoulder. "Watson, it is vital you stay at the castle and closely observe the further developments! I shall need you to be in touch with the Inspector. And under no circumstances are you to give anybody leave from the premises!"

I inhaled sharply. "This sounds as if you were afraid there was danger looming for anyone. Is it thinkable, then, that the murderer might strike again?"

"I fear yes, though who it is I can't possibly tell. It is but an uncertain feeling. You would do best to remain here behind and….keep an eye on everyone."

I nodded reluctantly, and he released me, his bearing suddenly very erect, his chest broadening and his voice harsher than ever.

"_Abteilung kehrt um!_"

Clapping his hand to an invisible rifle by his side, he turned on his heels, striding back into his room again.

**Dear, dear…whatever next? At least now we know who burgled Frau Mahler, though it will be difficult to explain it to the Graf. And as you can see, Holmes will be gone for a chapter or two – but he'll return, no worries! ;-)**

**Love, Mrs.F**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter twelve: Charade

I saw my costumed friend off from the gates to the train station and returned to the castle leisurely, presuming I had missed breakfast altogether. Yet when I passed the open door of the parlour on the ground floor, almost everyone was still seated, so I stepped in, mumbling excuses.

"Oh, it is quite alright," Her Highness assured me, offering a seat by her side. "Where have you left Mr. Holmes today? I trust he is not unwell?"

"Oh, no. He – er – he had to leave for a couple of days. I am to convey his most sincere apologies."

An indignant, discontent murmur surged along the table, I saw heads turn in consternation, and Leopold exchanged a disdainful glance with his father.

"Did he indeed", Her Highness finally said, avoiding my glance as well as that of everybody else. "How - extraordinary."

"But he authorized me to continue his task, and I will, do not worry," I hastened to add. The Gräfin put her thin, white-cuffed hand on mine reassuringly.

"Of course. That is very handsome of you, Dr. Watson. And I think Mr. Holmes acts very wisely in choosing not to be with us for some days, for a party in mourning is never very cheerful company."

I smiled at her gratefully. Suddenly noticing Frau Mahler and Mahler junior were sitting opposite to us, I enquired: "But I see Mr. Holmes is not the only absentee this morning. Did Direktor Mahler not feel inclined to join us?"

My words, I believe, contained no trace of sarcasm, and yet Johann's eyes shot daggers at me. He rose, put down his cutlery in his china with a pronounced clink, and left the table. Frau Mahler's large, gentle eyes, desperate like those of a cow about to be slaughtered, followed him and then darted back to us.

"Excuse me!" She whispered, getting up and going after her brother-in-law. I glanced at the Gräfin quizzically.

"I am so sorry, doctor", the noblewoman said collectedly, "Johann is a little touchy today, but of course you couldn't know."

"Know what, Your Highness?"

"Well – " she inclined her head confidentially, "you are aware of the curfew we imposed on ourselves after Margarete's things disappeared, and you will see that in the light of the most recent misfortune, said curfew has gained an even more tremendous importance."

"Assuredly", I agreed readily, remembering Holmes' directions to let nobody escape from the grounds.

"What you haven't been told yet, doctor, is that earlier this morning, Johann's brother – Direktor Mahler – has approached my husband for a permission to leave Schwetzingen – for an unknown destination."

"Did he give any reasons?" I breathed.

"None." Gräfin Wilhelmina shook her grey head. "naturally, Friedrich refused him, but it remains a questionable request, and I'm afraid Johann is taking it to heart quite much."

"I see," I muttered. "It certainly is very strange."

oooOOOooo

Fräulein Luise's body remained at the morgue of the local police station for the durance of the autopsy, of which to report the results Inspector Schulz came to see me in the afternoon. They were very meager. The coroner had extracted the bullet and drawn conclusions to the nature of the weapon from which it had been fired. His description seemed to corroborate Leopold's story: An old large, cumbersome, but very good kind of pistol.

In default of anything else to do, the Inspector was investing all of his powers into the task Mr. Holmes had left for him. All day he and his men could be seen on the lake, staking their boats to and fro, searching the ground with nets and pales. I went for a walk along the waterline to observe their efforts, and it took me as far as the Mercury temple, where I strayed around the cellar door in the rock irresolutely, in the hope of making some useful discoveries. However, nothing of the sort occurred to me.

I also did my duty in the scrutiny of the people, but that proved to be just as fruitless. Direktor Mahler kept away from society very much and when he was present talked little to anyone. My impression was that his mood had blackened since Luise's death, perhaps he was beginning to feel her loss at last.

His wife was nervous and apprehensive, and despite all, I'm afraid she was fostering hopes for the continuance of her marriage, now that the intruder had vanished from sight. Once or twice, I asked her to press her husband on the subject of his ominous offer of promotion, but she flatly refused to do so, scared to poison his heart against her.

Thus we let time go by, day after day, until the charade evening. This festivity was a tradition at Schwetzingen Castle, as the Gräfin informed me, and guests had been invited a long time beforehand which made it impossible to cancel, even in spite of unhappy Luise. I will delay the report of the events of the evening a little, for on the very same day, something worth recording came to pass. About an hour after luncheon, Inspector Schulz called on me in a state of proud exhilaration. They had discovered the weapon.

oooOOOooo

"Here it is."

Carefully he placed the dripping wet bundle on the window sill of our apartment, drawing back the wraps as if they contained a newborn babe.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Very well done indeed, Inspector!" I laughed and clapped my hand on his shoulder jovially. "Without your help, this _corpus delicti_ would have been lost forever in the mud on the lake bottom, huge and heavy as it is."

"Thank you, doctor. Yes, it certainly was a most unusual weapon to choose."

The pistol was made from old mahogany, once polished and gleaming, now dull and covered with a thin film of mud. The old-fashioned barrel was long and plated with gold.

"You know doctor, I checked the chambers and actually, they can't absorb more than one single shot!" He took the little bullet the coroner had found in the girl's body out of a cellophane bag and placed it next to the pistol. "The shooter must have been a cool hand."

"His aim was very close within the narrow confines of the maze", I reminded him. "There was nothing much of a risk to miss it. Have you as yet told anyone of your discovery?"

"Nobody, doctor. I thought I'd better leave this in your care until Mr. Holmes comes back. Perhaps he can make something of it."

"I'm sure. Thank you, Inspector."

"You're welcome. But I must get back – my men will have hauled in the boats by the time I'm back. I promised the Graf we would be gone before the first guests show up."

"That is very considerate of you. I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose."

"Dr. Watson." He gave me a final greeting and went out, leaving both pistol and bullet behind. I picked them up and entered Holmes' vacated room. Most of his things were gone, and I was glad to see the miserable syringe, still half full with liquid cocaine, sit on the coffee table. Pensively I turned the pistol in my hands. The gold work really was exquisite.

There even was – I pinched my eyes to discern the diminutive golden emblem on the handle. It somehow seemed familiar, but conveyed nothing in particular to me. I would show it to Holmes on the first opportunity. Browsing my memory for where I had seen the little golden emblem before, but failing nonetheless, I placed both pistol and bullet on the table and returned to my own chamber.

oooOOOooo

The evening was very enjoyable. After dinner, we assembled in the ball room, where seats and a makeshift stage had been set up, with dim lights and light spots and curtains behind which the performers could pull over the fancy dresses her Highness had ordered at a shop in town.

We were bidden to gather in groups of three, but having no particular acquaintance, I had already made up my mind not to participate, when to my surprise, Johann Mahler asked me to join him and his sister-in-law. I was so astonished I agreed to make the third element in the group. It was my assumption Johann somewhat repented his boorish behaviour on the day of Holmes' departure, for he was markedly polite throughout the evening, which confused me the more as I knew he found such games a dead bore.

The prescribed theme was mythology, so we staged our version of Eurydice's ascension from the kingdom of the dead, with the two Mahlers as Orpheus and Eurydice, while I did my best in portraying hart hearted Hades, God of the Dead, for which purpose I was draped into some old end of a black curtain. Johann Mahler was playing the lyra and shedding tears while a German Sheperd's pup belonging to the gamekeeper was lying at my feet, starring as the terrible three-headed hellhound Cerberus.

We made a resounding success of it, and earned a mighty surge of applause in the end. Only once during the performance it occurred to me that Johann's elegiac love was might perhaps not be pretended. We cleared the stage, and there was a quarter of an hour's break, during which sandwiches and Mocha in frail, tiny porcelain cups were served.

"A tremendous talent you possess, my dear fellow", I remarked slyly to Johann Mahler, more to see his reaction than anything else.

"Well….thank you…I certainly tried my best", he replied reluctantly, glancing at Frau Mahler, who stood next to her husband with an insecure little smile. The face of the Direktor betrayed no emotion, he did not appear to have heard our exchange of words at all. His eyes were fixed to the shiny floor invariably. He did not even look up when we were joined by Agnes and the Graf, who were having a lively discussion on their upcoming rendition. Obviously, the envisaged theme was not lurid enough for the old woman's tastes.

"I say, no Friedrich, we mustn't have any of that. No, and his group staged enough love and tragedy for the entire evening. Let's have a fight – what do you say, Wilhelmina?" she waved her hand at the Gräfin, who emerged from the crowd of her guests, a Mocha cup and saucer in her hands. "You would make a good warrior with your splendid figure, dear."

Gräfin Wilhelmina grimaced in disgust. "Is that really necessary, Agnes? You know I despise all sorts of violence. Besides, we've had enough real violence as of late, don't you think? Which reminds me – " she turned at me. "Have you had word of Mr. Holmes, doctor?" she enquired. "Is he likely to return anytime soon?"

I couldn't bear to lie to my hostess, she was upset enough already. "I'm afraid he doesn't keep me up-to-date about his steps, Your Highness", I returned regretfully, "though I am delighted to tell you at least the police have made some progress in the murder affair."

"Have they?" She raised her brow. "In what way?"

"In the discovery of the murder weapon on the bottom of the lake." I looked at Direktor Mahler sharply, who's face had become livid.

"I am surprised the Inspector did not tell me so himself", the Gräfin continued with a slight frown. "May I ask how it is that you, Dr. Watson, know of it?"

"Well – " I coughed gently. "The Inspector seems to put a lot of confidence in Mr. Holmes…I understand they are old acquaintances. He even entrusted me with the safe keeping of the weapon until his return.

"That is intolerable!" The Graf gasped. "I prohibited any interference through Mr. Holmes!"

I bit my lip. Maybe I should not have opened my mouth in the first place.

"Friedrich…" His wife placed an appeasing hand on the Graf's arm, but still he seemed far from conciliated.

"Um – maybe we should go backstage!" Agnes proposed swiftly. "It's time to put on our costumes."

"Yes!" the Gräfin replied with relief. "Why don't you go with Agnes, Friedrich? I'll follow in a second, I'll just go and have a word with the kitchen…"

The Gräfin hurried away through the masses of people, and the Graf followed in Agnes' wake, not without giving me a disapproving glare. For my own part, I went to obtain a good seat, since everyone had suddenly started to sit down again. Just before I directed my attention to the stage finally, I saw Direktor Mahler silently slide out of the room.

oooOOOooo

The ensuing rendition of Sigfried and the dragon was another success, though of a much different quality – it was hilarious. Her Highness made an admirable Siegfried indeed, her boyish figure emphasized by the heavy armour she was wearing. The beats was impersonated by Agnes and the Graf, who had concealed themselves beneath a huge, frightful mask with train of flowing fabric attached to it, reaching down to the floor in long panels.

It was really a funny sight to see, the elderly Gräfin stabbing at the dragon with a large lance for the entertainment of her guests, and the big, awkward monster that slowly advanced and recoiled, issuing deep groans every time it was hit. It had been almost defeated and the atmosphere was at its best, when suddenly the wide doors of the ballroom were flung open with a terrible cry of despair.

The spectators of the show turned in their chairs with gasps. A woman fainted. Getting up and spinning around, I was able to see what had captured their attention. In the open door, Frau Mahler was standing, her body shaking violently, her loosening hair hanging down around her face that had assumed an expression of utter horror.

**I for one knew what happened! *snickers evilly* Too bad Holmes isn't there. What is your opinion? Got any clue? Haha, I hope it was not too bad, because I've been scribbling this down madly in order to make it before next week. **

**That is to say, winter semester starts next week…and university's calling me home. Well, at least I'll have a Joseph Conrad seminar *dances*, but I wish all the same some Doyle was on offer. Wouldn't it be great? I would have read all his novels anyway!**

**Lots of love, Mrs.F**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter thirteen: Three grey old fates

Everybody's eyes were fixed on the frantic woman. Gräfin Wilhelmina rushed down the stage and seized her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. "What has happened? What has happened?"

It was a strange sight, the armoured woman and the quasi-Ophelia next to her. They actually resembled characters out of a play, tragic on one hand, on the other hand preposterous in a sinister, macabre way.

"My husband!" Frau Mahler howled. "He is dead! Murdered - Murdered!"

Ignoring the sounds of scandal and horror which surrounded me, I made my way to the door where the two women were standing.

"Where is he, Frau Mahler?"

"Up in his room – I came in to see whether he was alright – and zere he was, blood everywhere…"

"Would you please take care of your sister-in-law", I directed Johann, who had appeared out of nowhere, very white in his face. "I will look after her later."

"What is this turmoil?" called the Graf who had forced the onlookers aside.

"There has been _another_ murder?" Agnes squealed voraciously, making little jumps to get a better view at Frau Mahler. I gave Johann a quick look and he understood, taking his now hysterically crying relative by the arm and leading her out of the hall.

"Fetch the Inspector!" Her Highness instructed a passing valet. "Dr. Watson…we should go upstairs and see for ourselves what happened."

"I shall come along!" the Graf growled. "Leopold! You stay here and calm the people…"

This uttered, the corpulent Graf hurried to catch up with his wife and me, whom we had rushed out of the room and up the stairs where Direktor Mahler's chamber was situated. The door stood wide open, and at a glance disclosed to us the ghastly truth of Frau Mahler's words.

"Oh, my…." Gräfin Wilhelmina turned away and hid her face at her husband's neck. The Graf said nothing. Brows drawn together, he perceived the bloody spectacle.

Direktor Mahler obviously had fallen to the floor on receiving a vicious stab into his back, but was not quite in a lying position, for his torso was supported by a chair next to him. His knees were bent, so that his head rested on the plush seat, face down. Next to the chair, there was a small table with a full bottle of brandy, and the fragments of an empty brandy glass covered the floor beneath. I stepped closer scrupulously, so as not to disgruntle His Highness further, who had laid a soothing arm around Wilhelmina's narrow shoulders.

My experience with Holmes and his adventures had enabled me to draw certain conclusions as a matter of routine. For once, I was almost positive the attack had been from behind and as a complete surprise to the victim, his whole position indicating this. Possibly he had not even been aware of the assassin's presence, perhaps he had been bending over the small table, about to pour himself a drink. But, and this I considered more important, he had not died instantly. While being too much hurt to fight his attacker, he had obviously struggled, having knocked over the brandy glass with his rowing arms.

His whole figure was slightly twisted to the side, as if he had been endeavouring to clutch at the person behind him, maybe desperately trying to supply us with a proof as to the murderer's identity. If such had been his ambition, it had failed, his hands, slightly touching the floor with his arms hanging down on either side of him, were empty and showed no signs of contact with tell-tale substances, such as lipstick, face-powder or pomade.

A little disappointed, I retreated and wanted to say some words of comfort to the hosting couple, when we suddenly heard feet tramping in the staircase, and heavily breathing, the Inspector came in.

"For Goodness' sake!" he gasped, holding the sides of his short, fat body. "I came as quickly as possible, Your Highness." He panted for air. "Murder again, I see. The cause of death is the stab in his back, I presume?"

"It is indeed, Inspector", I replied mechanically.

"_Herr Inspektor!"_ the Graf droned.

There was a rapid exchange in German between the two men, which probably concerned me and my involvement in this case. I took the opportunity to have a last glance at the dead man. Was there absolutely nothing to be derived from the sight? Well, he had an end of greyish thread sticking to his shoulder. It was not much of a clue, but everything might be useful. Cautiously, I glanced at the Inspector. Yes, he was still arguing with the Graf, and the Gräfin participated in the argument, though whether to my favour or not was not to be divined.

As if by accident, I touched the corpse, and had the piece of thread disappear into my sleeve. Then I rose from my squatting position and joined the group, who fell silent almost instantly.

"Thank you, doctor", the Inspector finally said, apparently much vexed, "I will have my pathologist come and fetch the body, so you will be spared the unpleasantness of examining it. There is no hope of communicating with Mr. Holmes, I assume? I would feel much more comfortable to have him assist me in this investigation." The last sentence came with an air of near defiance, though he did not dare to face the Graf.

"I'm afraid he left no address", I answered hesitantly, "although I could try a telegram, of course."

"Thank you. That would be all, then."

I understood I was dismissed, and dispensed with declaring my sympathy to the Gräfin. Perhaps it was better not to irritate the Graf, or he might decide to drive me out of the Castle altogether. So I left, intending to go downstairs and help assuage the guests, but it seemed they had been sent home already for the most part.

I then decided on retiring, for it was late. Having almost reached my quarters, I could hear a light, quick step of fleeting feet at the far end of the corridor, but both feet and sound had vanished ere I turned around the corner. I went in without giving it another thought, but opening the invariably unlocked door of my bedroom, I froze to a pillar of salt.

The room had been searched high and low, drawers drawn out, boxes turned, my clothes on the floor in a wild disorder. I started, hastily going through the mess, but apparently nothing had been taken. I went through the entire apartment, but still it seemed nothing was missing. The drawing room and Holmes' half empty chamber were perfectly undisturbed. I passed my hand over my mouth with a frown.

I had never seen any necessity of locking the doors, but obviously I had to review my opinion. There had been somebody browsing my and my friend's privacy – somebody, it seemed to me, I had interrupted, his task only partially accomplished.

Very early the next morning, a telegram for Leutnant Erich Betzdorf, garrisoned at Saverne in the Alsace, was dispatched from Schwetzingen.

oooOOOooo

During the following two days, I hardly ever left our apartment, and when I did, locked the outer door not only with the key, but secured it with a padlock I had acquired in town. Thus I was able to be sufficiently unworried for – yes, for what?

What treasure did our rooms harbor which was worth the risk of being caught red-handed by me? This question, curious as it may sound, engaged my thoughts even more than the murder of Direktor Mahler, which to prevent would have been my responsibility. It had been received with composure also by my fellow guests, exempting Agnes of course, who spent many hours on the crime scene, although the body had long been removed.

"You know, Dr. Watson", she confided in me, "I have been collecting clues for a while now and I'm quite certain I know where all of this is pointing to. You give me another twenty-four hours and I'll have all of you assembling downstairs in the parlour, to lay my results before you."

Frau Mahler, for her part, had recovered quickly from the first shock. Johann had been a brick for her, I suppose, the two of them were to be seen together now more than ever. What his feelings on his brother's death were I could not figure. Perhaps they were tinged with regret, perhaps with relief. All in all, he did not seem much disturbed by it, but I remembered his brother's placidness on the news of Luise's death. Could it be all this calmness was mere pretense? Or was he really indifferent to the tragedy?

Of his chum Leopold I saw very little now. He was roaming the grounds with a brooding expression, hands buried in his pockets. When I heard him converse with others (for he barely ever talked to me now), I occasionally caught phrases like: "Not for much longer", and "stop this nonsense". Apparently, he was very much impatient for the lifting of the curfew, which would make him a free man, free also in respect to his nagging creditors.

I was wondering whether Holmes had thought of returning the key to the Mercury temple's cellar to Leopold's room. If not, the lad probably knew we had found out about his ill-gotten gains.

oooOOOooo

It was on the second evening after Direktor Mahler's death that I took a turn in the English Gardens. The day had been glorious and the evening was still balmy, and the unkempt parkland with its ancient, ivy-enwound oaks and beeches held a great charm for me. Leaning back my head, I was able to discern bunches of mistletoe in the treetops from time to time, glowing golden in the last sunrays of the day. Bramble tendrils and thin twigs laden with rose hips and rowan berries framed my path. A hare sped through the brush.

One could, in fact, imagine oneself at home in England, I mused, hadn't it been for the pinkish Castle, hailing from across the lake. I stopped on the border, looming out on the water thoughtfully. It might have been in this spot that Leopold had concealed himself, watching Mahler as he emerged the woods on the opposite border, and threw the ancient pistol into the lake.

Why had he done it? If he had used the weapon to kill the Duchess, how could it be that he was dead now himself? The position in which we had found him rendered the option of remorseful suicide impossible. I could divine no motive for him to get rid of a weapon he had not used, the more so as someone else apparently _had_ used it. The lethal shot had definitively been fired from it.

So, was the whole story a mere fabrication of Leopold's? Had he used and disposed of the gun himself? Had he slain both Luise and her lover in an act of blind revenge? And if so, then who had flown from me in the passageway the other day? What had he or she wanted from my rooms? And whatever could be the meaning of the inexplicable cry in the maze?

"Too manifold the questions", I groaned, rubbing my face with both my hands, "and too scanty the answers."

A very familiar shadow fell onto the even, unstirred surface of the water next to me, and a whiff of aromatic tobacco invading my senses. "As to the former, I would be inclined to agree with you, my dear Watson", Sherlock Holmes declared levelly, "as to the latter – we shall see about that."

"Holmes! You're back!" I spun round in surprise, seeing him chuckle at my confusion. He was still wearing the navy blue uniform, though he had liberated himself of any unnecessary accessories, and the black whiskers were gone, too. He was smoking a short pipe, obviously a new acquisition.

"Indeed I am, my dear fellow, and very glad about it, too. Saverne and the army mentality were getting on my nerves dreadfully. And never again in my life will I be suffered to drink beer or eat saddle of venison with sour cabbage, but that will be rather for Mrs. Hudson to bear in mind."

He picked a striped snail from the leaf of a bush close by, scrutinized it randomly and set it back. "I hear of quite a blood dead being committed here whilst I was away. Oh no, Watson – " he lifted both his hands in appeasement, "you are not to blame. I'm sure you've been well on your guard the whole time, but the fiend we are dealing with is cunning – and still, I regret to say, anonymous."

"So your excursion was in vain?" I enquired solicitously.

He shook his head, eyes darkening. "No, not in vain, Watson. At least, a very powerful motive for the murder of Direktor Mahler has been revealed to me, and I have only yet to unravel the connection with the death of Fräulein Luise. Surely this is something to go on."

"There may even be a little more", I said pensively. "During your absence, the Inspektor has recovered the gun. It actually was on the bottom of the lake."

"I thought as much. What about Direktor Mahler?"

"I was able to examine him roughly, but there was nothing much to be discovered. I found a bit of thread on the shoulder of his jacket."

"Aha! I would like to have a look at it – and at the murder weapon."

"Certainly. But are you not tired and hungry?"

"Pshaw!" He waved me side. "I can assure you, observing the necessity of being flexible, I developed the ability of sleeping practically everywhere, and had a most refreshing little nap on the train. As regards nourishment, I made the decision to abstain from it altogether, until we are back at home."

I raised my eyebrows doubtfully. "Let us return to the castle then. Have any of the party set eyes on you yet?"

"I encountered the Gräfin in the gardens, though I must say she was not overly cordial with me."

"Your unannounced departure put her on the spot", I berated him. "It cost you her faith, I'm afraid."

We ambled through the darkening woods, and during our walk, I informed Holmes in detail about what had happened on the day of Mahler's death, starting with the charade evening, and ending with my room being turned upside down. While listening, his steps somehow quickened and his brows were drawn together so tightly they seemed to form a single line across his forehead. When we had reached our apartment, he did not bother to unpack his things or exchange his ridiculous habit for more civilian attire, but went straight to his room and had a close look at the ancient pistol.

"Look at this", I drew his attention to the golden emblem on the handle. "It seems familiar to me, though I can't lay a finger on what it is. Fact is, I've seen it before."

"Very likely", my friend replied shortly. "Those are the armorial bearings of the noble family. The emblem adorns Her Highness' every plate and saucer."

"Of course!" I slapped my hand to my brow. "What I fool I've been! I have eaten from this china day after day without realizing…"

"Now for the thread", Mr. Holmes interrupted me heedlessly, already setting up his carefully kept, awfully fragile microscope. I handed the thin filament to him, and he busied himself with it for a while, pushing it around on the thin glassfibre carrierplate, and adjusting the power of the various lenses.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I reexamine the emblem on the pistol. Was it possible I had been so blind? Putting down the gun on the coffee table next to the syringe, I turned at my companion.

"Well? Can you make something of it?"

Sherlock Holmes had pushed back the apparatus, his face assuming the far-away expression peculiar to him when in truth his brain was working at top speed. "Indeed I can, Watson."

"Yes? Where does this end of thread come from?"

"It is no thread", he returned in a drawl. "It is a human hair." He leaned back, covering his forehead, which by now must have reached the temperature of a running steam engine, with a white-cuffed hand. "It is a human hair from the head of a woman."

My mouth gaped. "Holmes…you've almost made it! There are only three women that would qualify!"

"Certainly, Watson. But all of them are – to a differing degree – grey on their heads."

**Hum! These are deep waters. Holmes now is cognizant of the motive, but of course he prefers to keep it to himself. And in his stead, perhaps I would have a closer look at the question of opportunity. He might find it a little tricky….**

**Can you come up with answers to the questions Watson pondered?**

**Love, Mrs. F**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter fourteen: She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie – Cocaine

"Certainly, you are right." I bit my lip, picturing the three ladies in my mind. Agnes' head was grey all over, almost white, the Gräfin's hair was somehow greyish like slate and Frau Mahler's was black, but, as I had had occasion to observe, much shot with grey also. "We might ask the Inspector to claim a sample from each lady. They could hardly refuse."

My companion shook his head from side to side, carefully closing the covers over the sensible lenses. "It won't be necessary. I have almost made up my mind about our murderess."

"Really?" I ejaculated. "Which one is it?"

He ignored me, getting up in a jerk and searching his pockets for his tobacco box. "I must ask you to re-tell the events of that evening, Watson. When was the last time you saw Mahler?"

I creased my brow. "That would have been before the last rendition, when we were standing gathered in a group – "

" - on which occasion you mentioned the recovery of the gun."

"That is so."

"So, what did Mahler do then?"

"He seemed to be much concerned. I did not observe him further, since the group dissolved when the last performance started. Wait! I saw him again, he left the room when everyone was resuming their seats. Yes, that must have been the last time I saw him."

"Indeed! Now we are getting somewhere." His features unimpressed, he stuffed his new pipe with tobacco, merely his trembling hands betraying his agitation. "And after the show, what happened?"

"I told you so before. Frau Mahler burst in – shrieking and weeping over her dead husband – "

"Of course Watson, but don't you see? Where were the other two women in the meantime?"

I understood, or at least I thought I did. "On the stage, where everyone could see them! Oh my god, Holmes! They were there throughout! Frau Mahler must have done it, then!"

"And those will be the thoughts of every sane creature on the matter! Oh, isn't it great Watson? Isn't it gorgeous?"

I did see nothing so very gorgeous in it, on the contrary, I had barely ever encountered a murderess less prudent. But Holmes, who had tossed his extinguished match on the floor carelessly, made for the door, and I started up to follow him, hastily securing our door with the padlock.

"What do you intend to do?"

"To coax her out of her shell. Come along, Watson! They'll be downstairs now, all of them, at the dinner table."

Tripping over my own feet, I rushed down the stairs by his side. "Isn't it weird?" I spluttered. "There we are, in the midst of cabal and romantic entanglements, and who were our principal suspects? Three grey old maids!"

Sherlock Holmes stopped on the very last step, so abruptly I almost bumped into him.

"Romance?" he exclaimed, turning around sharply. "Romance, you say? Two persons have been killed, lovers indeed, but let me grant you, Watson, these murders were not romantically motivated! We are not dealing with a vulgar intrigue! These are, as a matter of fact, political crimes – crimes with the highest import on governmental diplomacy!"

"You mean to say? Has the Graf been right after all, has somebody been grasping for Fräulein Luise's title? But how was the Direktor involved?"

"Hush, Watson, now is not the time." He had yanked open the door to the parlour. Everyone was sitting around the oblong teak table, with dinner in full progress as predicted. Heads were raised, hands holding cutlery and wineglasses were lowered when my companion walked in determinedly. I followed, somewhat apprehensive, for the ends of His Highness' moustache were shivering menacingly.

"Good evening", Mr. Holmes said composedly. "Forgive our sudden intrusion, but I would like to make a declaration, which, I am very much afraid, cannot be delayed."

"Holmes!" The Graf banged his cup onto the table and rose furiously. "I warned you over and over again, but his is the limit! I will not allow you to…"

"You won't be able to deter me, Your Highness, I will have said what I have to say ever before the police arrive, and when they are here, maybe they will come in very handy."

Words had fled the Graf, too great was his indignation. He even sat down again as his wife anxiously tugged on his sleeve, and Holmes carried on as if he had never been interrupted.

"I am talking to all of you, ladies and gentlemen, though it is in fact only one amongst you that I am appealing to. This person, to whose best interest it will be to meet me and Dr. Watson in the French Garden during the next hour, knows very well whom I am addressing. I am not given to false assumptions or premature conclusions, so you may rely upon it there will be no use in staying away – you will be exposed at any rate."

I looked at Frau Mahler at this point, and she trembled all over, like a leaf on a tree. The Graf now glared at my friend in silent rage and disbelief, or rather at the blue jacket and white flannels he obviously thought Holmes was not entitled to wear.

"Very well", the detective concluded. "You are in the picture now. The murder weapon has been recovered, along with other things that will compromise you. Watson and I shall wait at the circular fountain, in the middle of the garden."

He withdrew and I went with him, turning my back on the crestfallen company. At the door he stopped and faced them once more, without looking at anyone in particular. "One hour", he stressed. Then we made our exit, leaving the door to fall into the lock on its own.

oooOOOooo

"Do you think she will be much longer?" I stepped from one foot to the other, breathing into my stiff hands, since I had not brought my gloves, or any suitable apparel for our night vigil. Mr. Holmes did not appear to feel the cold at all. Drawing on his pipe from time to time, he stood impassively, his stance unaltered. I sighed and checked my watch to see how much of the hour had elapsed so far.

"We've been waiting for twenty minutes now…it can't be that hard to make up one's guilty mind, can it?"

"I suppose not. But then, I suspect our murderess is feeling very secure. Perhaps she will not show up at all."

"Secure? Don't make me laugh! We have sufficient evidence to have her hanged, Holmes. By the way, what was that talk of political import? It would have been easy enough to establish some influence over Luise, poor gullible maid, there was hardly any need to do away with her. And Mahler? In what way could he have been significant? You hardly could call him a political authority. He _was_ quite an efficient magistrate according to our knowledge, and aspiring too…"

Holmes lifted one hand to silence me, lowering the one holding the pipe. His eyes squinted against the darkness. "There, Watson. Someone is coming."

He was not deceived. Through the gloom, a short, thick person stalked to the fountain, someone who, as he approached, was more and more likely to be His Highness the Graf.

"What the…?"

"Call me a professional failure, Watson", Holmes murmured, "But this is not who I expected."

The Graf had by now reached the spot where we were waiting, and halted with a well-calculated distance between us.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Ye-es?" My comrade answered slowly, running him over with searching eyes.

"I feel compulsed to tell you this foolery went on long enough now for my taste. You have repaid our trust and confidence very badly by perturbing my guests and intruding on our affairs. At the same time, I cannot see you have advanced one bit in your assigned commitment."

"Well?"

"I am asking you and your accomplice to leave Schwetzingen without return tonight!" the Graf exploded, finally losing his temper. "I had quite enough of you and your impudent attitudes!"

My friend opened his mouth and raised one eyebrow, drawing in breath deeply before replying: "I fear I must disappoint Your Highness in yet another respect. Dr. Watson and I will engage your hospitality for another night, though I can promise you we will free you of our presence in short time – possibly tomorrow."

"You rascal!" the short nobleman flared up, eventually gasping: "Fine, you may stay the night, but tomorrow you shall be gone or I'll call the police to release us from the plague! And your friendship with the Inspector will earn you nothing, since _I_ am the master in this county and _I _make the decisions!"

"By all means", Holmes returned philosophically. "I just thought you would be glad to keep the interference of the police restrained to a minimum – the detention of the person responsible for the crimes. There might be some unpleasantness for your family over this, since it has been incriminated by certain concomitants."

"Incriminated? My family?" His Highness growled. "Take care what you're saying, man!"

Mr. Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "There has been some kind of confederacy between your family and the assassin, of that I'm sure."

"Prove it!" the Graf gnashed between his teeth, tightly crossing his arms over his chest.

"If you so wish. But we must remain in this spot, for I am still in hopes the culprit may follow my beck. Watson? Might I ask you the favour of getting the gun from my room?"

"Sure", I acquiesced, glad to escape the chill grounds and the fuming aristocrat.

oooOOOooo

The agreeable warmth tingled down my spine when I entered our apartment. I assumed Holmes would not need the evidence immediately, and took the time to wrap myself into my greatcoat and scarf. A pair of gloves completed my measures against the unpleasant temperature. I was just about to head over to Holmes' chamber to retrieve the weapon, when suddenly someone rapped on the outer door frantically. The rapping was accompanied by agitated cries.

"Dr. Watson! Dr. Watson! Pray, open the door!"

I obeyed and found Agnes on my doorstep, greatly out of breath. "Thank god you are in! Come quick, doctor!"

"Whatever is the matter?"

"It's Mr. Holmes. He fainted!"

"Fainted? Why, what happened?"

"I don't know! Friedrich sent me up– you must come at once!"

"Certainly." I reached for my keys. "Just a second, I have to lock the flat."

"Doctor!" Agnes took me by the arm. "Perhaps it would be better if you took some smelling salts for the poor man. Do you have any?"

"Yes, I have some ammonia."

"Then get it! Hurry up!"

I returned to my room and Agnes came fussing behind me, talking incessantly. "Such a surprise, Friedrich came in from the gardens and said Mr. Holmes was unconscious, he had simply dropped over in the midst of their interview! Have you ever heard of something like this? I mean what could have possibly unsettled him?"

"Perhaps a sudden stroke of feebleness", I muttered under my breath, stooping over my medicine bag and searching it for the ammonia. "Holmes has been, I believe, on an empty stomach for hours…well, he often is, but then – "

I fell silent. I ceased moving. I was petrified. I just remained in my bending position, comprehending that Holmes had never fainted at all, and without stirring a muscle, I felt the hard, spiky object being pressed between my shoulder blades.

"That's good, doctor. Don't make a sound. It will add some more minutes to a forfeited life."

I had a feeling that even my brain had stopped working. It was incapable of digesting the fact that this hard voice belonged to the quirky, but likable little woman behind me. Was this how Mahler had felt, bent over the table with his beverages when she drove her dagger home? Was this how Luise had been startled, looking at the face of the old lady whose pistol aimed at her?

"Now get up. Caution! Not too quickly, or I'll shoot you over at once. I'll find the pistol anyway. I would have found it the other day if you hadn't returned unexpectedly. But you can now save me the trouble. Where is it?"

"Why do you want it?" I gasped, venturing a senseless attempt to gain time. Perhaps Holmes would…

"You don't need to worry about that. Just lead me to it. Where is it?"

I closed my eyes in vexation. No, this time Holmes would not come and save me. I recalled he was outside in the gardens, with the Graf. He had not fainted. They were having an argument and God alone knew how long it would take. Holmes would quarrel with this troublesome man, and perhaps now and then would wonder why I did not return with the gun, but he would never guess that at the same time, his best and only friend was –

"It's in Holmes' bedroom", I said, yielding to the insistent pressure of the pistol.

"Bring me there. But don't make a wrong move. I _shall_ pull the trigger if you do."

I have been in many a perilous situation of mortal danger. I have faced wild tigers in the Indian bush, I have seen the afghan battlefields, and since my acquaintance with Holmes, my life had been threatened more often than even before, but never have I been more at a loss how to safe myself, even unable to grasp the full meaning of what was actually going on. Agnes had become another woman as she made me lead her out of my bedroom and through the living room to Holmes' chamber, the pistol atrociously forced into my ribcage all the time.

Or perhaps not quite. I had been insensible, maybe, of what was only too apparent, her blood-thirst, her recklessness, her unseemly and almost morbid fascination with violence and crime. And still, it was impossible. She could not have possibly slain Mahler. She had not once left the stage, I was just one of many witnesses that would swear to it.

We had now reached the chamber. Everything was just like it had been an hour before, everything was in its position: The microscope on the desk, Holmes' tobacco box on the couch, his syringe on the coffee table and next to it – the pistol. There it lay, together with the single bullet, one of our most important pieces of evidence. I thanked heaven that at least Agnes did not know about the hair she had left on Mahler, and that was now on the carrierplate of the microscope over yonder. Perhaps she would leave a hair on me…

"_Warum denn nicht gleich so."_ The terrible old hag snatched the pistol from the table like a much desired price. With now both of her hands occupied, she appeared a little bit more assailable for an instant, but this impression vanished when she reinforced the pressure of the loaded gun on my person. "Bend over the table and rest your weight on your palms."

I would have much preferred an upright death, but it seemed I had no say in this matter. There was no way out. Complying with her command, I used the last seconds of my life to remember what had been most important about it. I thought of the day I had taken medical degrees, the day I had met Holmes. I thought of my wedding day. There was no avenue to save or elongate life in this my friendly, giving world. Or was there?

Grotesque as it may seem, this moment my brain resumed its service. I did not know how many more seconds would pass before Agnes pulled the trigger, so I thought in quick flashes. How would Holmes approach this problem? I remembered he used to say the solution to any problem always lay in what remained when one had excluded everything that was impossible. So, what options did I have at my avail?

Since I could not turn around, there were only three objects within my reach. One, a wooden table supporting my weight. Clearly that was not of much use to me. Two, a little lead bullet still lying on the tabletop. Not very helpful, either. Three, a syringe half full of liquid cocaine.

I did not reflect. I barely know what happened. The only thing I know is that the loaded pistol fell from the weakening grasp of a feeble old wrist, intoxicated and unstable with the unwonted venom invading its veins speedily. And I know there was a long, low moan before the woman slowly sagged to the floor.

**Hehe, now Watson will never again be able to condemn his partner's drug abuse! And the ammonia is not going to waste, neither. So how do you feel about Agnes killer granny? Surprised? Suspected it anyways? And what does all of this have to do with politics?**

**Re chapter title: You must forgive my being such a goddamn Eric Clapton fan. Yes I know I suck at music *laughs***

**Major hugs, Mrs.F**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter fifteen: The truth will out

When Sherlock Holmes stepped up to his rooms later this evening, he found me, his best friend, in company, if an unconscious woman lying in an armchair with shackled wrists can count as such. Seeing him hesitate on the threshold, I gave him a look of genial easiness.

"Well Holmes? I hope your conversation with the Graf concluded more fruitfully than it commenced. In the meantime, I myself had an interview with this lady here, which might have been quite charming, hadn't it been for her attempt on my life."

Folding hands in my lap, I smiled up at my comrade smugly, who had slightly blanched. "I owe you a thousand apologies, Watson. No, don't contradict. I have been an utter fool to believe for a second she would not try to use you as a means of getting past your most conscientious wards."

I laughed boisterously. "No need to feel sorry, my dear fellow. As you can see, I was quite capable of drawing my head out of the sling myself."

"Indeed." His eyes narrowed. "Though I cannot for the life of me make out what means enabled you to overwhelm her."

"Well – that's beside the point, presently", I returned in a hurry. "I'm sure she'll regain her senses soon enough, dreadful witch. What's more important, as I, obtuse as I may have been, eventually realized, is her responsibility for the deaths of both the Direktor and the Duchess."

"Quite so. And a very convenient thing for her that the two were illicit lovers, with all the erroneous conclusions to be drawn from the fact."

"Yes, but what was actually behind it all?" I queried, abandoning my seat for my companion, who had been standing long enough out in the cold, and picking up the pistols from the floor, both the loaded and the unloaded one. Mr. Holmes sat down and crossed his legs, replying: "As for the murder of Fräulein Luise, I believe in a mere accident. She was killed in Direktor Mahler's stead."

My eyes went wide. "But how?" I ejaculated.

"You remember Mahler's statement that he and his mistress had parted for the murder game?"

"I remember your blatant disbelief."

"My disbelief is subsistent up to now. They may have split up, but is it credible? You have remarked their affinity yourself. Don't you think the temptation was rather big for them alone in absentia of prying, misgiving eyes?"

"And still, Mahler denied that having been the case."

"I trust his words in so far that he went alone – as he thought – to the interview which in all probability had been proposed to him by his murderess. Luise, however, followed unseen – and intervened when she saw her lover's life being threatened."

"Sweet Lord! Do you think she stepped between them to accept the bullet that was meant for Mahler?"

"It must have been so. Hence the cry in the maze. Mahler issued it when he saw Luise was hit, but recovered quickly enough to do what in his opinion had to be done. The pistol had contained one shot only, and he saw himself confronted with an old woman more or less disarmed – if only he had known it. Thus, he frantically wrested the gun from her grasp – you recall we found traces of some sort of a fight – and fled the maze before we could occur on the spot. As reported by Leopold, he then flung the murder weapon out into the lake, for in the current situation, its possession must have seemed compromising to him."

I shook my head in default of comprehension. "Why, Holmes? Why did he not come out into the open and accuse Agnes instead of hushing up her misdeed as if it had been his own?"

"He knew no living soul would believe him", a dire, venomous voice snarled, and with a slight jump, I became aware Agnes had re-woken. Glancing at us with hostile eyes, she went on, her tones feeble but still menacing: "Even if they had, I would have been unimpeachable. Everybody knows it. You do too, Mr. Holmes, don't you?"

"Certainly", he acknowledged coldly. "I bore in mind as a very suggestive fact your close kinship with His Majesty Emperor Wilhelm the Second, and furthermore I am convinced the motive to your gruesome actions is to be sought in just this connection."

"No doubt you are right." She smiled viciously. "But is it for me to tell the entire story? After all, you are supposed to be the detective that is not to be beaten."

My companion shrugged, overriding her dubitable compliment heedlessly. I had been wondering why he did not smoke as he was wont to do on such occasions, but now I recalled I had barely ever seen him do so with somebody who had utterly and irrevocably lost his respect.

"As you wish. Watson, keep away with these pistols, lest our guest should feel tempted to help herself to them. You, madam, ask me for the whole story. Its beginning, naturally, must be the motive for your unprincipled villainy, that's the force of the cause. Well then, as both of you are aware, I travelled up to Saverne during the preceding week, from whence Direktor Mahler had returned a changed man. I knew something must have happened to shatter his deep-rooted loyalty to the German Reich…something which, for some reason, had not leaked through until now. I went as a military persona because the place is crowded with army officers as the hive is with bees, and I felt secure I would not attract attention. It was the right decision. Shortly after my arrival, I learned about the inadmissible treatment the Alsatian population received from the Prussian occupants in general – and about one outstandingly hideous incident in particular."

Ignoring the disparaging smirk on Agnes' small features, he proceeded: "The officer's refectory supplied me sufficiently with information to get a picture of what had happened. Apparently it had all started with a meddlesome young lieutenant using inappropriate language with the suggestion of violence when speaking about the local people in front of his soldiers. This naturally resulted in public indignation and augmenting riots.

It seems that at the time, the emperor, who had been duly informed about the state of things, did not attach sufficient importance to them, though he took the measure of browbeating the media. In order to hush up the incident, several alleged informants of the press have been arrested so far. It appears there has been further provocation of the Alsatians through chauvinistic Prussian militants which caused a state of permanent protest in the City, protest that the army had no scruples of hedging with the use of machine guns.

From a secure source, I know that Direktor Mahler, in his capacity of head of the local administration, had been approached with the plea of cooperating with the authorities, it being known how faithfully devoted he was to the welfare of the German nation. He indignantly denied the request – you will remember he was Alsatian by birth himself – and categorically refused to use violence in order to re-establish peace among the inhabitants of the City. Ever before the situation escalated, Mahler left for Schwetzingen, but not without being bidden to at least hold his peace about the affair.

I presume the offer of promotion he received was meant as a bribe to secure his silence, for if the course of events were generally known, it would be considerably disadvantageous for the reputation of the army, and in the last instance, of His Majesty the Emperor. Again, and not altogether unexpectedly, Mahler declined."

Sherlock Holmes paused in his narrative, and, to my surprise, I noticed signs of white-hot anger welling up in him. "So, Watson, what would you think His Majesty does to prevent the true version of the story leaking through? Exactly. He eradicates Mahler, and he does so with the aid of his most capable agent on the spot – Freifrau Agnes, his first cousin, devoted to the cause of the Reich and yet quite unsuspicious. She needs no more than a weapon and an opportunity. The latter can be easily arranged by making the Gräfin organize an outdoors game where she is able to see Mahler in private. She does not count on Fräulein Luise's following him, but then, what is the sacrifice of a single innocent life compared to the integrity of the State?"

He cast a disdainful glance at Agnes, who smiled complacently, resemblant of the innocuous old lady she had first been to our perception.

"The weapon was harder to get", Sherlock Holmes resumed his recounting of the events. "The curfew forbade the possibility of leaving the Castle and procuring one, so she had to use what she could get _in situ_. I suppose His Highness the Graf saw to it you should have this pistol with the familial coat of armour on it", he nodded to the gun in my left hand, "and later on, when that was lost, a corresponding piece to complete your task."

He indicated the gun in my right. "I should have known that was the object of your interview with the Graf during the first round of the murder game. He had brought it out from the family collection, and conveyed it to you when you met on the lakeside. The Graf had no possibility to refuse you this favour, as he depended on you for the career of his only son."

"It was a little more than that", Agnes corrected him lightly. "He is himself very loyal to the cause of the Reich. Reliable man, Friedrich is."

"Yes, I suppose he is – from your point of view. Nevertheless, I hope Her Highness the Gräfin had no hand in any of these doings."

"Wilhelmina?" Agnes laughed a short, contemptuous laugh. "Certainly not. She would be incapable of it…poor, soft soul. I even took the trouble to try and restore the weapon, so that her family would be secure from incrimination. Now that this part didn't work out, it can't be helped", she added without any concern.

"Not quite. You forget that I am at liberty to reveal or withhold as much of my knowledge as pleases me. But I am not quite finished yet. After your attempt on the Direktor's life had failed, he lived in a state of constant fear of you. My friend Watson here tells me he kept very much to himself during his last days. It was from mortal dread that he did so.

He knew he could not openly accuse you, the more so as his own standing in the case was a more than questionable one. He tried to obtain permission to leave the castle, but, as the Graf was the deciding authority, it was in vain. He only succeeded in strengthening the suspicions against his own person. So he stayed – and waited. Waited for you to come for him as he knew you would in the end."

"And as I did", the old harpy affirmed smugly. "I killed him while everyone was downstairs, watching those tiresome charades."

"It's impossible!" I started. "I know you did not leave the stage."

Holmes lifted his hands, bidding both of us to leave the word to him. "Never left – or never actually been on it? Gain, I sense the confederacy of the Graf. According to Watson, the two of you were supposed to impersonate the dragon, disguised with a mask and attached trains of fabric. Now, if I imagine this construct correctly, it would have been absolutely impossible for the spectator to divine whether there were two persons concealed beneath it, or only one.

The Graf did the acting all on his own, I take it, giving you an opportunity to go upstairs to the room Direktor Mahler had retired to, and take him by surprise. Later, you descended, hiding behind the stage curtains, and waiting for the deed to be discovered. When Frau Mahler had burst into the room and everybody's attention was sure to be fixed on her, you had an excellent chance of slipping on stage unnoticed."

"True – very true", she admitted, still smiling. It drove me to distraction.

"How marvelously done", I hissed, my hatred unfolding without restraint. "But perhaps it will wipe that self-satisfied smile from your face to hear that you, madam, have been so careless as to lose a hair on the back of your victim. We have it here, under the microscope – it's enough to have you arrested. The police can't get past it."

Agnes never ceased smiling, and to my surprise, Holmes also shook his head in negation. "Not so, I'm afraid, my steady old Watson. I regret to say that our nocturnal visitor is perfectly right in assuming her impeachability – no policeman would ever wish to be so daring, not even our trustworthy man Schulz. As regards the Graf, the inspector would, with some justification, consider it professional and social hara-kiri to attempt his arrest. This is not England, and other rules come into play. The Graf is, as he pointed out to us this very evening, still master and final court of appeal in personal union – at least here, on his own territory."

My face fell, and the abominable person that had tried to take my life not one hour previously cackled triumphantly. "You see there is no denying it – I will go free, as will Friedrich. We are backed up by higher authorities than you could ever hope to claim here. This is, as you very prudently remarked, not England, and you will see what that precious parliamentarianism of yours will earn you in the future!", she spat derisively.

I turned to Holmes with indignation. "Is there nothing we can do?"

"Nothing at all, I'm afraid", Holmes replied, scrutinizing the triumphant murderess with disgust.

"You see", she cried, "according to the law of this country, you are putting yourselves in the wrong by restraining me in this room one more minute. So get a move and remove these shackles on my wrists, or you'll regret it."

Shaken by disbelieving rage, I saw my friend gently incline his head to me, and with the greatest unwillingness I stepped forward, taking the bonds off her hands.

"Now, that is better." Smiling again, she hopped to her feet and swished to the door. "I am sorry it has come to this, Mr. Holmes", she said with what I see as an audacious impudence. "All this fine brain work of yours, and all going to naught! One must retain one's fairness. You really did an admirable job."

"I would prefer you not to demean my achievements with your approval", he returned with extreme hostility. "As to the question whether it was all for naught – I think not. Despite your assumptions, I myself am not deprived of any considerable contacts in this country, and as soon as I have returned to mine, I shall see to it they all are informed of the truth. The exact facts of the Saverne incident shall come out, madam, and an irreparable damage will be done to the image of your kinsman, Emperor Wilhelm the Second. So you see, it will not be my efforts being put to naught, but in fact yours. I wish you a very pleasant night."

And with these words, he closed the door in the face of our detestable enemy.

**Hello!**

**That was quick witted, eh? Holmes is perfectly right. The particulars **_**did **_**come out.**

**The Saverne Incident (german: Zabernaffäre) and Direktor Mahler are historical facts, though I invented the ensuing murder, of course. You can read it up on Wikipedia if you are interested. **

**Next chapter will form an epilogue to the story, and it will send us back on our way to London, so no more Prussian aggressors and no more sauerkraut!**

**Loads of love, Mrs.F**


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue

We left early the next morning, in keeping with our promise to the Graf for once, and, what was more important, in order to preserve our lives, which, now the secret was out, hung in a balance for the remainder of our stay. We bade adieu only to the Gräfin and Frau Mahler who were early risers. The ladies were grieved at first at our departure, but their humour brightened when Holmes handed them the rusty old key, together with the instruction of trying it on the cellar door of the Mercury temple. Leopold's name was not mentioned in the entire proceedings, though I did not quite understand why.

My companion was silent and brooding and not at all forthcoming during our journey, and I dared to ask him only when we had boarded the ship that was to take us across the channel. "Holmes?" I said, leaning on the rail and looking down into the greyish-green domes of heaving waves, "why did you allow Leopold to go free? He is not a particularly charming person, and it would have been easy to prove his guilt to the Gräfin."

"Expose the lad?" my friend's high-pitched voice came clearly through the shrieking of the sea gulls. "Catch the small fish and let the great one get away? This is hardly my way of executing justice. Moreover, Leopold is a member of the noble family himself, so there would not have been the slightest chance of punishing him if Her Highness had chosen not to believe us."

"She might have believed you", I demurred. "She held you in high esteem, old chap."

"That is as may be, but she's also a mother and, more important, a woman. Do you recall the words of my favourite Persian saying? _There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub – "_

" – _and also for him whoso snatches a delusion from a woman_", I sighed. "Yes, you quoted it times and times again for me."

"And very apropos it comes, too. No mother would like to acknowledge her son to be a gambler, much less a thief. And as highly as I think of Gräfin Wilhelmina as an individual, the arrogance of her class still flows in her veins, along with her blood. Ah, this country is declining, Watson! It was great once, in the days of Charlemagne and Barbarossa, but its heyday, I fear, is past and gives free reign to chauvinism and moral degeneration.

There is a dark century looming, a century full of hatred, war and militarism, and in this country it maybe will disclose its darkest side. But sometime, the tempest ceases and leaves a fresh, uncorrupted land behind, and when this time comes, Watson, perhaps the country we are now turning our backs on will be great again. But my mind is wandering…look, Watson! Can you discern this familiar sight from the clouds and the mists and the spraying foam of the water?"

"Why", I squinted my eyes against the fog, "surely it's the chalk cliffs of Dover!"

And it was. When the fog cleared and the mild autumn sun broke through the clouds, the white rocks gleamed in front of us in their full breadth. A great number of vessels and steam ships, emerging the mists, could be distinguished as they headed for the cut in the cliffs representing the port of Dover. Above the coast line, green fields waved along the shore, disrupted only by white flecks that might be occasional fragments of chalky rock, as well as a widely dispersed flock of sheep.

"It looks beautiful", Mr. Holmes assessed in his genial, precise manner.

"Yes." A foolish smile stole on my features. "It's good to be back."

**Jaaay I made it! Hope the ending was not too bad an imitation of the concluding lines in His Last Bow. **

**It was huge fun as always and I was thrilled to have you as readers! You are certainly the best. *cuddle* I'm in the mood to write another story straight away, but I'm currently busy collecting material about Holmes' London, as well as browsing the canon for hints and suggestions for what feels like the hundredth time. It's mightily interesting to give it a closer look, you miss so much when you just read for pleasure. **

**I'm always glad to receive suggestions and stimuli from you! Perhaps I shall see you soon! *hugs you all into a coma***

**Love, Mrs.F**


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